For Love or Money 2
by starsthatburn
Summary: A year has passed since Emma and Regina got back together, and Emma finally feels at home. She has her own apartment, a beautiful, rich girlfriend, and a career in publishing that's actually going well. If it weren't for the niggling feeling that she's still one wrong move away from getting kicked to the curb, things would be perfect.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter one**

The brown canvas was one of the worst she'd ever seen.

Emma wrinkled her nose, taking in the paint strokes that were slapped haphazardly across the rough fabric. She could have sworn that when she'd first started coming to these events, there had been a lot more colour involved. Now everyone seemed to be favouring sludgy greens and greys that reminded her of pond water, and it was making it even harder to pretend to be enjoying herself.

Although, really, that was only half the problem. The other was that there was an overweight man chattering away in her ear, and he'd been there for the past 10 minutes.

Emma took another sip of her champagne and tried not to flinch away from him. It had been a long time since she'd been dragged kicking and screaming under pain of contract termination to an event she had no interest in: ever since she and Regina had fallen back into one another's arms the previous year, there had been no expectation for her to show up to gallery openings; no need to spend all her wages on couture suits. But, maybe because she was a sucker, she did it anyway. The only difference was that she didn't resent it anymore, and that made it a hell of a lot easier to tolerate the cluster of crooning, clucking men who had the collective earnings of a small African country.

Except, of course, for the guy who was still talking at her even though she hadn't said a word since he'd first appeared.

"I'm just thrilled that rough brushstrokes are back in vogue," he said, edging even closer. He was in his fifties and Emma didn't think they'd ever met before, although all these men did look exactly the same, so it was hard to say for sure.

Her usual method of getting rid of people like that was to stare pensively at the painting until they got the hint. This guy, though, was made of stronger stuff.

"And the perspective here," he continued, reaching out like he was actually going to touch the canvas. The years of art-world etiquette that had been drilled into Emma made her flinch automatically. "It's just stunning."

"Mm," she eventually said. His cheeks visibly pinkened at her enthusiasm.

"The lack of colour is also something I'm really enjoying – it's so brave."

Finally, Emma was reeled in. "Brave?"

"Oh, definitely. So often I come to these events and leave feeling like someone's squeezed a lemon into my eyes."

There was a long pause before Emma asked, "From someone using green paint in a landscape?"

"Absolutely. I think the whole world would be better if it was just various shades of white."

Ignoring the delightfully racist undertones in _that_ little analysis, Emma took a step back. "You know, I should go and find Regina. I haven't seen her in a while and if I leave her unsupervised for too long, she tends to buy entire exhibitions without thinking."

That was a lie, but it worked: she was able to turn away before the man had even replied, and she quickly slipped through the crowd. She was wearing a dress that evening – a short black one that was too tight around her waist and made it impossible to eat anything, but had the added benefit of making her look irresistible to the only person in the room whose opinion she cared about.

It was a Tuesday, which meant it was unlikely they'd be out very late, and Emma was already hoping she'd be lured back to the Upper East Side with promises of foot rubs and orgasms that only grew more mind-blowing as the months went on.

From a quick look around, she couldn't spot Regina anywhere, so instead she headed for the refreshments table. Tucking a stray hair behind her ear, she grabbed a plate and filled it with the lowest-carb snacks she could find. It was a struggle – another thing she'd learned over the years was that although rich people were all about the free-flowing Pinot Noir, they were surprisingly stingy when it came to handing out food.

Once she had six things on a plate, she turned and surveyed the room. She'd been to that gallery dozens of times before, and she never enjoyed it very much – it was too bright and the ceilings were low, and there was so many sharp turns and alcoves that it was all too easy to lose someone in there. It reminded her of an old Windows screensaver, except instead of plain brick walls, she was surrounded on all sides by colourless art and even more colourless people.

But then she finally spotted the one splash of life in that whole room, and she headed toward it with a smile automatically spreading over her face.

Regina was standing by herself with her arms folded across the front of her bright red dress. She was staring at a painting like it was talking to her. Emma recognised her posture for what it really meant, though: the tight shoulder muscles and the harsh jawline that was slowly ticking. She'd felt the cloud of annoyance swirling around her in the car earlier, and she could see a shadow on her face as she approached. Regina wasn't contemplating: she was sulking.

"Here," Emma said as she reached her side.

Regina glanced down at the plate and narrowed her eyes. "What the hell is that?"

"Snacks. You haven't eaten properly all day."

"Right. I think I'd prefer another glass of champagne."

"I'm sure you would, but I'm not getting you one until you eat."

Regina rolled her eyes, but she begrudgingly took the plate. For once, Emma couldn't judge her for the look of disdain on her face – that gallery only served oily food and even oilier coffee, and just the fact that Regina was willing to force down one of their smoked salmon blinis was good enough for her.

Regina didn't say another word as she chewed. Her gaze kept straying back to the painting.

Eventually, Emma sighed. "Regina, it'll be okay. I know you're disappointed that that artist signed to Janet instead of you, but someone better will come along. They always do."

"I don't have time for a hope speech right now," Regina replied. "It could have been huge for me."

"This year's already been huge for you. Maybe it's time to take a break."

Regina snorted, but she gently touched the small of Emma's back as she did so. "I'll take a break when a doctor tells me to."

"There's that healthy work ethic I love so much," Emma said, nudging her. "Come on. This time next month, you'll have forgotten all about whatever-his-name-was. There are hundreds of other impoverished young artists waiting for you to get your magic dust all over them."

"What magic dust is that?"

"Oh, right. Like you don't already know."

"I have no idea," Regina replied, abandoning her half-full plate and shooting a pout in Emma's direction.

"You're just fishing for compliments."

"Well, I'm having a bad day. I'm allowed to."

Emma rolled her eyes and stepped closer, noticing that Regina's breath automatically hitched as she did so.

"That magic dust that lands on every single thing you touch," she said. "Whenever you get your hands on something, you make it better."

Regina's cheeks coloured slightly. "That's a lie."

"It's not. Just look at me."

"That's even more of a lie. You were already perfect when I met you," Regina replied, reaching for Emma's hand and squeezing. Even then, two years after they'd first met, the way Regina could dish out compliments so easily and sincerely still knocked Emma off her feet.

"Stop trying to butter me up," she muttered, ignoring Regina's smirk. "You're already sleeping with me."

"True, but maybe I'm about to ask you for a favour and I need you in a good mood for it."

Emma hesitated. "Are you?"

"No," Regina said cheerfully. "I just like to torment you."

Rolling her eyes, Emma said, "You're in a weird mood tonight."

"Aren't I always?"

"Well. Yeah. But weirder than normal. It's making me nervous."

It wasn't really, but Emma loved the wicked smirk Regina got on her face whenever she thought she was being intimidating. Right on cue, she grinned, her dark eyes flashing. "Good. That's exactly what I like to hear."

Then her tone shifted, and she turned away from Emma like nothing had happened at all. "Now. What do you think of this one?"

She was talking about the painting, much to Emma's disappointment. She glanced back at the canvas to make sure they were discussing the same thing, and then flatly responded, "I don't like it."

"You always say that."

"I do not."

"You said it last week at Frank's gala, and two days before that at—"

"I told you," Emma interrupted. "All of these new ones are boring. Everyone's decided that browns and greys are the most exciting colours to ever exist, and it's killing me. There's no spark anywhere."

There was genuine shock on Regina's face when she looked back at her. "Wait. You have an actual artistic opinion on them?"

"Is that so surprising?"

"It is, coming from the woman who started off saying that she only likes paintings that look like what they're supposed to look like."

"I stand by that. But fine – I guess you've accidentally taught me a thing or two."

"Nothing is accidental with me, darling," Regina replied, nudging her.

All Emma could do was smile and look away, because whenever Regina's voice got all soft and playful like that, all she wanted to do was grab her by the wrist and tug her in for a kiss that would leave everyone in the room staring.

Even after two years of them showing up at events together, people's eyes still constantly strayed in their direction, although Emma hadn't worked out whether that was because it was so scandalous that two women insisted on being happy together, or because it was unthinkable that Regina could be happy at all.

And just like that, Emma's smile tightened.

They stood in silence for a moment – Regina observing the painting, and Emma observing Regina – before the anxiety that had been living in the base of her stomach for the past six months finally became too crackly to ignore.

"Maybe it's a good thing that we're still not living together," she said, forcing a laugh. "If you've turned me into an art snob from across town then God knows what I'd be like living on the Upper East Side."

She waited for a response, just like she always did. She waited for Regina to light up and say, "I have a solution for that."

Instead, she stayed quiet, her gaze still taking in the painting. Emma could have sworn the colour had faded from her cheeks.

With Regina's attention once more fixed on a piece of mundane art that Emma was almost completely certain she wasn't considering buying, Emma decided her best option was to turn and walk away. Disappointment was bubbling away inside her and if she wasn't careful she'd do what their couple's therapist kept referring to as her 'walls up' defence mechanism. It usually involved her going into a funk and getting snippy in a public place, and that rarely ended well – especially not when Regina was the one getting snapped at.

Instead, she went over to the emptiest corner she could find and took a deep breath, waiting for the pounding in her temples to subside. She'd collected a glass of champagne off a tray on her way over and was sipping it slowly – another technique she'd learned from therapy. She still kind of missed the days when grabbing a bottle of bourbon seemed to solve all of her problems, but she definitely didn't miss the bloating and the headache that came with it. Nowadays, it was much easier to pretend that she was considering the nearest painting rather than simply trying to find a quiet moment where it was possible to talk herself out of crying.

She straightened her shoulders beneath her black jacket and folded her arms, letting the champagne flute dangle casually from one hand. People rarely bothered her when she was in that position – either because they assumed she was deep in thought, or because they could tell she wasn't in the mood for small talk. Regina was the only person who ever dared to disturb her, but even she stayed away. Not that it was intentional – as much as Emma loved her, she had to admit that her girlfriend was still quite dense when it came to actual human feelings.

One year. One full year since they'd reunited on Regina's couch and had promised to stick together from then on. One year since Emma had felt her life come slowly back together and she'd started to convince herself that maybe a happy ending was waiting for her after all.

Now she wasn't so sure. It seemed to be taking its time showing up.

She took another sip of champagne before letting out a sigh. Sure, they'd agreed not to live together at first, because it had made sense at the time. They'd both been on edge about how things had collapsed six months earlier, and they'd wanted to take things slow. For months, Emma had been fine with that. But now time was starting to become another pressure that was eating at her from every side, and she wasn't sure how to shrug it off again. Growing up in foster homes where she'd spent her days waiting for people to get sick of her had taken its toll, and now, as the weeks went by, that feeling was starting to creep back up on her. She wasn't sure how to shake it off again.

Any time Regina opened her mouth with an excited smile on her face, Emma eagerly awaited a discussion about their future, but instead found herself engaging in a conversation about another artist she'd never heard of. Whenever Emma tried to bring the topic up herself, Regina's responses were always short and disinterested, either because she didn't want to engage in something so meaningless or because she was still afraid to try.

Emma straightened her shoulders again and inwardly berated herself. _Don't be so stupid_, she snapped, grateful that her inside voice was more of a hardass than her external one. _She loves you. She tells you that constantly. She's been through a bad marriage and an even worse break-up and she just needs a nudge. Stop sulking because you aren't willing to give it to her._

She groaned at her own brutal honesty. As much as she hated to admit it, this was something she needed to do: she couldn't keep blaming Regina for the fact that both of them were still a little scared of taking the next step.

But then her internal monologue was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. Immediately, she felt herself loosen – Regina must have realised that something was wrong and come to ask her about it. Maybe now they would finally have the conversation that Emma had been pushing for since Christmas.

She turned around with half a smile on her face. She even prepared to hold out her champagne glass in case Regina wanted to steal a sip.

Then she stopped, blinking hard. She stepped back in case a hand was about to shoot out and do something to her that she couldn't stop.

"Swan Song," Neal said, grinning at her. "It's been way too long."

Emma automatically took another step away from him, her heeled boot nearly slipping as it hit the floor.

He was _right there_. Right in front of her, with the same cheeky grin and narrow eyes that crinkled at the sides. His hair was slightly longer but his chin was just as stubbly, and he was still slumped forward like he was trying to get as close to her as possible.

The only thing different about him was that he was wearing a suit. It was crumpled, sure, but it was there, hanging limply around him like a used paper towel. There was a white shirt under it that Emma knew from the specific, straight creases down the front had just been removed from its packaging an hour earlier, and a tie that was loosely knotted and hanging to one side. Years ago, she might have thought his rumpled lack of care was endearing. Right then, she felt sick.

"Neal," she eventually forced out. She didn't try to smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Surprised?" he asked. She was expecting him to say it with some malice, but there was none. Instead, he was beaming at her like his life hadn't been complete until he'd seen her across the room 20 seconds earlier.

"I... You could say that." Emma looked over his shoulder, hoping to spot Regina or Archie or absolutely anyone she knew, but she was met with a sea of white faces that she barely recognised. "It's been a while."

"Over a year," Neal replied cheerfully. "I've missed you. What have you been up to?"

"I've..." Emma faltered as she looked around the room once more. The only thing worse than the fact that she couldn't see Regina was the fact that no one else was even looking their way. No one was staring or wondering what the hell he was doing there – no one else in the room knew or even cared what he had done. He was just another scruffy-looking guy wandering around in odd socks, and as far as they were concerned, his sloppy appearance was the most unforgivable thing about him.

"You're blown away by my presence, I see," Neal continued like he couldn't see the mounting panic on her face. Emma automatically took another step back, wondering how long it would be before she crashed into the painting behind her.

"I'm just... I wasn't expecting to see you."

"Yeah, well – I took a little break from all this. But I'm back and I've been really looking forward to catching up."

"You have?" Emma asked, folding her arms tightly over her chest. Neal's grin never lessened.

"Of course I have. We used to have fun together. Remember that party where we shared a whole bottle of tequila? I've never known a girl to drink as much as me."

Emma nodded sharply, not knowing how to respond. She glanced behind her to gauge her escape route and realised that she was as close to the wall as she could get without knocking the canvas off its nail. When she turned back, she could have sworn that Neal had edged closer.

He smelled the same – weed and paint and unwashed hair after a long sleep. She hated the fact that she still remembered that.

She looked down at the floor and took a deep breath. She opened her mouth so she could make her excuses and leave.

She was cut off before she could try.

"What," a voice – so familiar to Emma that it made her automatically relax, but cold enough to force her spine into a rigid line – said from behind Neal's back, "are _you_ doing here?"

Regina was standing two paces away with her gaze fixed on the back of Neal's head. Emma tried to think of a time when she'd seen her look that angry before, but she came up short. The only thing that came close was when she'd come home from work to find Emma and Henry eating candy on the couch, totally unaware of the fact that one or both of them had ground chocolate into the designer fabric.

Neal jumped an inch, his smile finally dropping. When he turned around, Regina fixed him with a stare that made Emma's knees shake.

"Regina," he said, his swagger vanishing in the tremble of that one word. With his back turned, Emma felt safe to edge out from behind him. "Great to see you again."

"Is it." There was no question in Regina's sentence – it was blatantly apparent that no, it wasn't.

"It's been a while," Neal continued, glancing at Emma as she shuffled over to Regina's side. "How have you been?"

"You know, I've been terrific. The past year, where you haven't made an appearance even once, has been delightful," she said flatly. "And yet, here you are. I must admit I'm surprised."

"Because you missed me so much?" Neal grinned.

Emma felt the rush of rage that filled Regina up before she'd even opened her mouth. "No – because I made it very clear when we last spoke what would happen if I ever saw you at one of these events again."

"Regina," Neal attempted to laugh. "Come on. That was ages ago."

"And yet I'm still deadly serious. Did you not enjoy having your career ruined, Mr Cassidy? Are you here to see if I'll do it again?"

At that, Neal's shit-eating grin finally vanished and turned into something far more malicious. "Get over yourself. You don't have the power to ruin me."

"I did it once, didn't I?"

"No – you threatened to do it once," Neal corrected, making Emma go cold all over. "And I was young and dumb enough to believe you. But now I have security, and I'm not scared of your baseless accusations anymore."

"Baseless?" Regina spluttered. Emma felt a dozen sets of eyes snap over to stare at them. "You _assaulted_ my girlfriend."

"Says her," Neal replied coolly. Before Regina could cut him off again, he added, "And that's not relevant. I'm not here because of Emma, or because of you."

"Why are you here, then? Did you sniff out the free champagne from down the block?"

"Excuse me, Regina," another voice interrupted them. It was calm and quiet, and it was one that Emma always hated hearing. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't speak to my client like that."

Emma and Regina both turned to find Mr Gold waiting for them. He was leaning on his cane and wearing a smirk that made Emma's skin go icy.

"_Your_ client?" Regina demanded. When Gold just kept smiling serenely, she turned back to Neal and snapped at him, "That's why you're here?"

"I've been signed," he said, his smugness radiating from him. "Someone else recognised my talent. Don't be upset about it."

Emma immediately reached out and grabbed Regina's wrist to stop her from doing something that would land her in jail. The tendons in it were taut and protruding.

"The boy's got a gift," Gold said from behind them. "It would be a travesty to waste it."

"It's not a waste if he's a predatory little wretch," Regina snapped, spinning back around. "I told you what he—"

"Just because some of the sheep we work with believed you when you started trying to sully this young man's name doesn't mean we all did. You're not the only voice of authority in this industry, dearie."

"Regina," Emma muttered in her ear. "Just leave it."

Just as she expected, Regina ignored her.

"This _young man_ isn't fit to walk among us," she snarled. "He's sloppy and lazy and cocky and rude, not to mention all his other undesirable qualities."

"Says you."

"Yes, says me. Trust me – if you get into business with him, you'll live to regret it."

Gold looked her up and down like she was a beggar who'd just wandered into the gallery. "Trust _you_?"

After a long pause, he let out a sigh and added, "Although, in fairness, it wasn't you telling tall tales, was it?"

Regina's back went rigid. "Excuse me?"

Gold's gaze slithered over to Emma like an insect skating over the surface of a pond. It took every ounce of attitude she still possessed not to shrink back from it.

"Someone else here was the one telling lies," Gold said, staring levelly at her. "I suppose it's not your fault you fell for them."

Emma's body went hot, then cold. She could feel people muttering around them. Somewhere in the background, the incessant jazz music that always played at events like this was still droning on and on, and Emma decided to focus on that rather than on how badly she wanted to reach out and beat the wrinkles off Gold's face.

Beside her, Regina was having a harder time hiding her wish to do so. "Who the hell gave you permission to talk to either of us like that?"

"No one – since when have I needed your permission to do anything?"

If it had just been Gold being an insufferable jackass, maybe Emma would have been able to bear it. As it was, though, she happened to glance over at Neal: he was wearing a cocksure smile that would have been slightly charming if she'd been five years younger and still sniffing around dive bars looking for grubby guys to give her cocaine. Now that she knew exactly what kind of person he was, it just made him look like a crocodile that was waiting patiently for a smaller, stupider animal to wander toward him.

He felt the weight of her gaze on him and he lifted his eyes to meet it. In that one look, she saw a flash of something she didn't like at all.

Without thinking, she turned and walked off. The people who were watching their conversation without even trying to pretend they weren't parted for her, and she stormed through the crowd thanking God that she'd learned to powerwalk in five-inch heels years ago.

"Emma," she heard Regina's voice from behind her. Emma kept walking, forcing her chin to stay in the air so the people staring at her wouldn't see the wobble in her jaw.

She threw open the main door and turned right, not quite sure where Sidney would be waiting for them but knowing Regina was probably already texting him to start the car. The footsteps behind her were getting quicker as they struggled to keep up, and it was only when Emma was two blocks away from the gallery and finally feeling less dizzy that she stopped to let Regina find her.

"Emma," Regina said as soon as she was three feet away. She was out of breath and her voice was laced with concern, but bubbling beneath that was anger. A lot of it. "Are you okay?"

Emma nodded sharply, facing away from her. Regina reached her side and grabbed her hand. "I can't believe what that little imp is trying to do. He's so... I'm furious. He won't get away with this."

Nodding again, Emma kept her eyes on the street ahead. The evening was warm, although not quite as sticky as it had been the summer she'd met Regina. She had a sudden, vivid memory of walking to Le Bernardin to have dinner with her for the first time – sweat had been trickling down her back, and she'd been so nervous about what they would find to talk about that she'd nearly turned around and walked off again. When they'd left the restaurant and Regina had kissed her cheek goodbye, Emma had barely been able to breathe.

And now here she was, wearing shoes that cost a thousand dollars with that very same woman clinging onto her hand and muttering fierce reassurances in her ear. So much had changed, and yet Emma didn't feel very different at all.

"Emma," she heard Regina's voice properly. "Please talk to me. Are you alright?"

Forcing out a sigh, Emma said, "Yeah. I'm okay."

That obviously wasn't good enough, because Regina pulled on her wrist until she was forced to look at her. "You're not. But I'm going to fix this, I promise – Gold's not going to walk all over us and trail that slimy little rapist behind him as he goes. It's outrageous, and I won't stand for it."

Regina's eyes were flashing black with fury, and for a split second Emma felt better.

But then she remembered that night – the one where her lungs had stopped working because she was being pinned down into a couch and didn't have the strength to kick herself free – and how Regina's eyes had shone in the exact same way when Emma had run to find her. Just like that, she felt worse again.

"I just want to go home," she said flatly. Regina blinked.

"Okay. Sidney is bringing the car round. He can take you to work tomorrow, and—"

"No," Emma interrupted, squeezing Regina's hand so she wouldn't take it personally. "I mean, my home."

"Oh. Alright. I don't mind staying there tonight."

That wasn't what Emma had meant either, but rather than argue, she just nodded. She tried to focus on the positive – she wanted some space to calm down, so maybe it was a good thing that Regina still refused to have a conversation about them moving in together. If they shared a bed, Emma would never be alone again.

Except that silver lining was looking distinctly grey, and no matter how much she longed to pull away from Regina, all she could do was tangle their fingers together.

When the car pulled up, they clambered into the back with Regina still muttering to herself about what a disgrace Mr Gold was. She had her left hand clamped in Emma's across the middle seat, but her right was already typing out an email.

"It's absolutely disgusting," she was saying more to herself than to anyone else in the vehicle. "He thinks he can flaunt that snivelling little sex pest in front of us and I won't do anything? Because I'm, what? Scared of him?"

Emma's nose suddenly started fizzing and she scrunched it hard to make it stop. Regina had scoffed at her own words like they were so utterly laughable, but the sorry truth was that Emma _was_ scared. She'd always prided herself on being someone who took no shit and wouldn't hesitate in telling a man where to stick it once he got out of line, but the moment Neal had come bearing down on her, she'd felt the panic settling in with enough force to crush her chest. It had been 18 months but she could still feel him on top of her and, for the first time in a while, she felt truly powerless. It reminded her of being 17 and staring blankly at the wall of her juvie cell, knowing that she was trapped for the foreseeable future and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

"Emma?" Regina asked. "What's wrong?"

Emma shook her head. "Nothing."

A heavy silence filled the car. At the sound of her cracked voice, Sidney glanced up at her in the rear-view mirror.

She felt Regina shuffle half an inch closer, her phone falling to one side.

"Darling. I know this was a horrible surprise and you must feel so angry and afraid, but I promise you I won't let anything happen to you. I'm going to keep you safe. Okay?"

Her words were soft and comfortable and they made Emma's throat hurt. She desperately wanted to lean into them and find some relief there, but she couldn't. Not when she felt like she'd just tumbled back two years and everything was dangerously close to falling apart all over again.

They were getting near to her apartment, and maybe it was the thought of them going inside together and yet again not having the conversation they needed to have that made her turn to Regina and ask, "If we can't fix this, are you going to tell me to leave again?"

The look of hurt on Regina's face was enough to send her reeling backward.

"What?" she demanded. "Why would you ask that?"

"…I'm just wondering."

"Wondering if I'll kick you to the curb just because Neal is back?"

"I mean... It wouldn't be the first time."

All the air left the car as Emma realised what she'd just said. Regina snatched her hand away fast enough to leave a scratch from her ring.

"That isn't fair," she said. "I thought we were past that. You said you'd forgiven me."

"I have. But it still scares me and I can't help but wonder how long it's going to be until you get sick of me causing drama and ask me to leave again."

When Emma realised that Regina looked close to tears, she felt sick.

"I... No," Regina said flatly, looking out the window so she wouldn't have to meet Emma's gaze. "I wasn't planning on breaking your heart again. But maybe I can shift some things around in my schedule if you think you'd like to have another unnecessary fight."

Emma let out a loud sigh. "Don't get all defensive. It was just a question."

"It was a question designed to hurt both of us because you're feeling insecure and when you get like that you prefer to punch back rather than open up," Regina replied shortly. She was right, and she still wasn't looking at her. "Which is ridiculous and hurtful. No, I'm not planning to do that again. Satisfied?"

"Not exactly," Emma muttered, although she was feeling so ashamed of herself that she thought she might choke. "I was just checking. I just need... reassurance."

Regina's eyes flashed as they snapped back over to her. "Reassurance? How have I given you anything but that over the past year?"

"I..."

"I love you. I tell you that 10 times a day. Even when you're being a brat and I want to push you out of a moving car, I love you, and I've spent months trying to make sure you know that. I did a terrible thing back then, but I'm different now and I've apologised and I don't want you throwing that in my face any time you're upset. That's not how this works."

God, Emma hated being in the wrong, but it was even worse when she'd grabbed the shovel and freely dug the hole for herself. Regina's eyes were glassy and hurt, and by saying the stupidest thing she could think of, all Emma had done was take her own unhappiness and forced her girlfriend to sit with it instead.

She swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

"Of course I am. I shouldn't have said that. I'm just..." She couldn't bring herself to say the word 'scared'. "I spiralled. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I think so much more of you than that."

Regina looked at her suspiciously, but when she saw the sincerity on Emma's face she finally reached for her hand again.

"Fine. Just don't be such an asshole."

"You know I can't promise that," Emma said, smiling weakly.

"True. It is a key part of your personality."

Emma squeezed back, then sighed. "I want to go home."

"We're going home, you silly girl."

"I mean, by myself. I want to go home alone."

Regina blinked at her. "Why?"

"Because, I just... I need some time to think."

Regina didn't look offended. She looked worried. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"If you come back to mine, I'll either keep thinking of horrible things to say just to distract myself or I'll keep you up all night with my worrying. It's for the best."

A delicate pout was clinging to Regina's bottom lip. Even then, Emma couldn't help wanting to lean forward and gently dig her teeth into it.

"But that's what I'm here for – to be kept up all night with your worrying."

It was such a ridiculously sweet thing to say that it only made Emma want to cry more.

"Seriously – I just need to go home and think about this whole Neal situation and get myself under control. Is that okay?"

Regina nodded, but she didn't look happy. Her fingers were still clinging onto Emma's. "I... Sure. Of course."

"Cool." Emma hesitated, realising they were slowing down outside her apartment. "I'll call you tomorrow?"

Another uncertain nod. Regina didn't let go of her hand.

Emma turned to the door and went to grab the handle, but paused at the last moment. "Thanks for sticking up for me tonight."

That, at least, made Regina smile. "Don't be an idiot. I'll always stick up for you."

"Right," Emma said, trying to laugh. When Regina heard the sound – as forced as it was – she finally let go. "I'll talk to you later."

"Of course," Regina replied. Emma clambered out the car, saying goodbye to Sidney as she went. It was only a second before she shut the door that Regina called out to her again. "Emma!"

Turning back to peer into the car, Emma asked, "Yeah?"

"Can you...?" The question visibly dried up on Regina's tongue. "Just... let me know you're safe."

It was when Regina said words like that in her softest, most uncertain voice that Emma truly realised how much she cared about her. Without thinking, she lowered herself back into the car and kissed her on her slightly trembling lips.

"Promise," she said. Regina smiled back.

The car didn't drive off until Emma was safely inside. Even then, filled with anxiety and anger and the sharp bubbles from champagne that had been drunk too quickly, Emma felt a surge of gratitude.

She walked slowly up the stairs and reached her apartment, her heart sinking slightly as she realised that she'd consigned herself to a night completely alone.

She could still smell Regina's perfume on her. That would have to do for now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two**

She barely slept. Of course she didn't. The second she'd left Regina behind in the car, everything had turned cold and irritating, and her empty apartment was suddenly the last place she wanted to be. She'd briefly considered calling Regina and asking if Sidney could come and get her again, but instead she'd gone to bed wearing a thick sweater even though it was summer.

The only rest she got came just before her alarm went off, and when she jolted awake again, she wasn't particularly surprised to see that she'd overslept by 30 minutes. Forcing herself out of bed, she hurried around getting dressed while trying desperately to think about anything other than the one thing that was swirling round and round her head.

Just as she squeezed some toothpaste onto her brush, the buzzer went downstairs. She ignored it. Her apartment wasn't too far from the local middle school and it wasn't rare for kids to enjoy a game of ding-dong ditch on their way there. It buzzed again while she was brushing her teeth, but it wasn't until the third time that she actually started to get annoyed.

She rinsed off her toothbrush and headed back to the bedroom, grabbing a sweater. It was then that there was a knock at her door.

Glancing at the clock, Emma wandered over with one arm tangled up in a sleeve. When she pulled the door open, her heart stopped.

"Hey," she said. Regina was smiling nervously back at her, but Emma was already braced for a fight. "What are you doing here?"

"You gave me a spare key."

"Right. That's not what I meant. What are you doing near here?"

"I…" Regina started, exhaling heavily. She looked down at where Emma was still half tangled in her green sweater. "Well. It's going to sound stupid."

Emma was too tired to reply with _everything you say sounds stupid_, so instead she just shrugged and waited.

Regina hesitated before saying, "I didn't get the chance to give you a hug last night."

"Sorry?"

She recognised the faint look of embarrassment on Regina's face before she clarified, "You were upset, and I let you go without…"

Emma's arms went limp by her sides. "You drove all the way here at 8:30am just to give me a hug?"

The second Regina nodded, Emma disentangled herself from her sweater and tossed it to the floor. Regina opened her arms, and she fell into them with a sigh of relief.

"I thought you were here to yell at me," she mumbled after a few moments. Regina's soft laughter against her ear warmed her all over.

"I don't tend to make appointments for that."

When they pulled apart, Emma felt just as exhausted and worried as before, but at least her heart wasn't hurting so badly. "I really am sorry for being such a dick last night."

"Don't worry about it. I'm used to it by now."

Emma rolled her eyes. "That's really nice."

"Consider it payback." Regina suddenly lifted her hand and cupped Emma's face. She considered her carefully for a moment, her dark gaze taking in every one of Emma's pale features before she said, "I'm going to fix this, Em."

She didn't believe her, but Emma nodded anyway. "I know."

"No, you don't. You think I'm going to go rushing in like a bull and make everything worse. But I'm not – I'm going to think about this properly and I'm going to ever so gently remove both of them from our lives forever. I promise."

The fact that Emma's existence was naturally tangled together with Regina's in that sentence made her chest hurt all over again. Regina saw her expression drop.

After a beat, she pulled her hand away. "Why did you ask me if I was going to tell you to leave again?"

And just like that, Emma had been handed the opportunity to have the conversation she'd been putting off for weeks. Regina was watching her with a concerned expression, her arms were still open and she was ready for whatever she might have to say. It was the best chance she'd been given yet.

But then Emma glanced at the clock and sighed. "I'm really late for work."

"Oh," Regina said, her face visibly disappointed. "But…"

"Sorry. There's just… there's a lot going on and it's not the right time. But I'm okay."

She wasn't. They both knew that. But Regina nodded anyway. "Alright. Can I drive you to the office, then?"

"Please."

When they left the apartment together, Emma wasn't sure whether to feel better or not. The Neal issue was still weighing on her and the fact that she'd chickened out of asking Regina about their future wasn't helping, but the mere fact that she was there beside her somehow made things feel less frightening. It was a small reassurance, but it was enough.

As they headed down the stairs, Emma reached out for Regina's hand. Regina held it tight, and she didn't let go.

* * *

"This," the voice bellowed from across the office as soon as Emma arrived at her desk, "is not on time."

Emma didn't even look up as she replied sweetly, "Did your assistant forget to bring you your Xanax again? I never would have done that. You must be missing me."

She heard Ingrid huff from several feet away. "The new girl is useless."

"You say that about everyone."

"Yes. Including you."

"And yet I managed to survive nearly three years under you. I can't be that useless."

When Emma looked up, Ingrid was standing directly in front of her desk, her arms folded and her face sour. "I still don't understand why Violet went off to college when she had a perfectly good job here. I've had four different assistants since then and I swear they're getting worse each time."

"If you want me back, all you have to do is ask."

"And you'll say no."

Emma grinned. "I know. But I love to hear you beg."

Ingrid rolled her eyes and perched on the edge of her desk. "Why are you late again?"

"Because that's who I am as a person."

"Emma," she said warningly. "I shouldn't have to keep reminding you that just because you don't work directly for me anymore, I am still your boss. You do know what editor-in-chief means, don't you?"

"It rings a bell," Emma said, then sighed. "Sorry. It's been a weird morning."

"Girlfriend troubles?"

"It's not _always_ girlfriend troubles," Emma protested. She thought about Neal again and shuddered. "Regina's just fine."

Mentioning her by name was always a sure-fire way of getting herself out of trouble. At once, Ingrid leaned forward with an excitable glint in her eye. "Have you been to any good events recently?"

"We went to one last night. It was bad," Emma added before Ingrid could ask who was there and what Regina had been wearing. "But Regina's doing her quarterly gallery opening in a few weeks. I can put you on the list."

"Scoring me invites to your girlfriend's fancy parties isn't going to stop me noticing your tardiness," Ingrid said coldly. Then she paused. "Get me a plus one. I'm seeing someone new and I want to impress him."

Emma laughed. "Sure thing, boss."

Half a second later, Emma's other boss came rushing round the corner. Belle was infinitely more relaxed than Ingrid had ever been, but she always seemed to be running and was never seen without a stack of books clutched against her chest. Right then, when she saw Emma and their editor-in-chief happily chatting at her desk, she dropped two of them.

"Sorry," she squeaked in the delicious Australian accent that Emma had sort of been lusting over for the past year. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You're not – I was just reminding Emma that the work day starts at 9, not 9:20, and Starbucks having a long line is not a valid excuse," Ingrid said, hopping off the edge of the desk. "Belle, we have a conference call with that awful illustrator at 12."

"I remember. Emma's sitting in."

"Good," Ingrid said, sweeping toward her office without another word. As the door clicked shut behind her, Belle breathed out a sigh of relief.

"I'm always on edge when she's around."

"I remember that feeling ever so fondly," Emma said, sorting through some papers on her desk. "Then I started being rude to her instead and it worked out pretty well for me."

Another voice joined them. "That's how we became friends, too. As soon as Emma starts bullying you, you're in."

Emma swivelled in her chair and gently punched Elsa's arm. "Where have you been hiding?"

"Under a mountain of work. Although," Elsa said, eyeing Emma's own treacherous desk. "Maybe not as mountainous as yours."

"Yeah, well. There's a lot going on."

"Emma's taken the lead on all three books that are going to print next month," Belle interjected proudly. "The day you came over to our team was the day my life got a whole lot easier."

"That's the first time anyone's ever said that about Em," Elsa said as Belle walked off. She grabbed the nearest empty chair and pulled it closer to Emma's. "How did last night go?"

Emma grimaced. "Not great."

"What happened?"

She thought about Neal again and swallowed down the metallic taste in her mouth. "It was just… I don't know. Not very interesting and the people were annoying."

"Aren't they always?"

"I guess."

"Does that mean you didn't manage to ask Regina about the moving-in thing?"

"No," Emma sighed. "I did try, but then we got distracted and… I don't know, the timing wasn't right."

"Distracted by what?"

Emma could feel her pulse starting to quicken, so instead of going into any more detail about what had gone down the previous evening, she asked, "I don't know. Art stuff. How's August?"

It always worked as a way of distracting Elsa. "He's great. Last night we finally finished painting the guest room."

"Haven't you been living there for six months?"

"Yeah, but August dumped all his guitars in there the day we moved in and I haven't been able to get in since."

Emma smiled, wondering what it would be like if that was her biggest problem in life. "I'll have to come round and see it."

"You will – dinner next week?"

"Sure," Emma said, watching as Elsa hopped up and made her way back to her own desk with a wave. "Can't wait."

* * *

"You didn't have to come, you know."

Emma glanced up from her phone. Regina had been bouncing around on her side of the car ever since she'd collected her, and the constant movement was starting to make her feel dizzy. "What?"

"Tonight," Regina clarified, nodding in the direction they were driving. "I wouldn't have minded if you'd wanted to stay at home."

She was trying to avoid saying the words: _Neal will probably be there. I don't want you to run into him._

Emma just shrugged. "I know. But I haven't seen you much this week. I wanted to hang out."

It was the truth, and the fact that her words instantly made Regina stop fidgeting made her stupid decision worth it. She knew Neal would be there – he'd probably be at 90 percent of the events they went to in future since most of them involved free booze – but Emma wasn't going to suddenly stop going to them because of him. Her stomach had been in a tangle all day and more than once she'd thought about calling Regina and telling her she couldn't make it after all, but in the end her stubbornness had won out. If this was a fight, then she was determined to win it.

"Well, I'm happy you're here," Regina said, squeezing her hand. "I've been worried about you this week."

"Why?"

"Because I know when you're stressed, and I don't like not being able to help." She paused before she repeated her promise from earlier that week. "I'm going to fix it, though."

Emma squeezed back halfheartedly. "Thanks."

"You don't believe me?"

"It's not that I don't believe you. I just know what guys like Neal – and Gold – are like and I don't think you should underestimate them. Don't go steaming in trying to ruffle feathers if it'll just end up damaging your business."

"You're worried about my business right now?"

"Not worried, but it's a lot more important than my feelings are."

Regina's soft, sad face nearly broke her heart. "Of course it's not."

"Just, please, don't do anything dumb. Okay?"

Regina frowned. "I'll do my best. But I'm going to look after you, and if either of them comes within 15 feet of you, I'll set off a bunch of fireworks in Gold's gallery."

Emma laughed and squeezed her hand harder. "I love you."

"I love you too. Now, don't give me any of those disgusting crab cakes again unless I ask for them."

The second they stepped into the gallery, they were caught up by a group of art dealers who wanted to compliment Regina until their faces turned purple. Emma stayed by her elbow, nodding politely when really her attention was firmly elsewhere.

It only took a few minutes before she spotted him.

She automatically wanted to reach for Regina's hand, but she stopped herself. When Neal spotted her and grinned, her entire body shuddered.

Regina noticed at once. "What?"

"Hm?"

"Why did you just go all tense?" Regina asked, carefully lowering her voice so the people around them wouldn't overhear. She was wearing her highest heels that evening – the ones that took her two inches above Emma's height and made her look like the toughest woman in the whole world – and a short black dress that cut into her waist like a blade. On any other night, Emma wouldn't have been able to keep her hands off her. Right at that second, though, she wanted to wither away and head for the door.

"I shivered."

It was a lame excuse and Regina was smarter than that. After a second, she lifted her gaze and directed it across the room.

She spotted Neal instantly. He was talking to someone else, and the cocky grin on his face had settled like oil.

"Oh," Regina said at once. Her expression had darkened. She turned back to the rest of their group. "Excuse me for a second."

She pushed right through them and began striding across the room. With a yelp, Emma darted after her and grabbed her wrist. "Regina!"

"What?"

"You can't start a fight in here."

"Why not? That's exactly what you used to do."

"Ha ha," Emma said flatly, pulling Regina harder when she realised she wasn't stopping. "Please. Think for a second."

"I am thinking. I'm thinking about how he's wandering around here with that stupid smug expression on his face and someone needs to go over and slap it off."

Her rage was almost overwhelming, and part of Emma wanted to shrink back from it. Instead, she heard herself blurting out the question she'd been avoiding since the day she'd run out of Neal's studio. "Why do you believe me?"

That, at least, made Regina stop walking. She turned to look at her with her forehead crumpled. "Sorry?"

"When I told you what he did, you didn't even question it," Emma said, twisting her hands together. "You barely know any of the details but you believe me anyway. Why?"

Regina looked at her like she was totally insane. "You didn't make it up, did you?"

"No."

"Then why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know. In situations like these… most people don't believe the woman."

Regina snorted. "Well, luckily for you, I've never been most people. There was something I didn't like about that slimy oaf the second I saw him trying to make a move on you on the roof of Gold's gallery, but even if none of that had happened, I'd still believe you. It's not a question."

That was the part Emma had had a hard time understanding. "But why?"

"I don't know," Regina said, suddenly pulling her close and grabbing her hand. "Because you have more faith in me than anyone else has ever had. It's not even a conscious decision for me to return the favour."

Emma smiled weakly. "Please don't go over to him."

"Emma," Regina sighed. "Someone has to say something."

"Maybe. But not you, and not now. Just… leave him alone. He wants us to be angry that he's here and if you go bulldozing over to him any time you see him then he'll think he's winning."

Stepping back with her arms folded over her chest, Regina scoffed. "Then what am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know. Just act normal."

"_Normal_?"

"Regina, please," Emma said, half sighing and half laughing at her incredulousness. "Let's just pretend things are okay. And, look, what he did was bad, but at least he didn't actually—"

"Stop," Regina interrupted, lifting one hand. "Do not try and defend him just because you managed to fight him off before he actually forced his way into your pants. I can't stand the image and if you try and play it down, I really will kill him."

Something about Regina's flat-toned sincerity made Emma feel slightly better. She nodded. "Sorry. You're right. I just… I don't know. He doesn't seem to think he did anything wrong."

"He wouldn't. He's a—"

"Regina!" a voice boomed from behind them. It was another dealer – one of the ones Regina actually tolerated – and he was beaming at her from beside a canvas that looked like it had been painted with hundreds of tiny toothpicks. "It's good to see you again."

Regina automatically glanced at Emma, who nodded. "Go ahead. Time to network."

Normally, even though everyone in the room knew they were together, Regina refrained from physical displays of affection. Emma didn't take it personally – this was a different world, and Regina had to appear in control at all times. She couldn't be backing her girlfriend up against the nearest wall when there was money to be made.

But right then, without a moment's hesitation, she reached forward to cup Emma's chin and gently kissed her. Emma's heart skipped, and then blissfully stopped.

"Don't get yourself into trouble," Regina said, her meaning all too evident. "Come and find me if you want to leave."

Emma couldn't help but smile. She knew people were looking at them – Regina dressed all in black with shoes spiky enough to kill a man, and Emma wearing a white shirt buttoned up to her throat tucked into pants that made her legs look a mile long. They always stood out, no matter where they went, but right then she suspected they might be glowing. The fire in Regina's eyes was bright enough to warm the entire room.

"Go," Emma replied. "I'll find you soon."

Regina nodded and reluctantly stepped away. The second she was lost in the crowd, Emma steeled herself for something to happen.

She couldn't see Neal right then, though. Instead, she spotted someone else.

In the far corner of the corner, standing entirely by herself and clutching what looked like a Fashion Nova purse, was a woman probably younger than Emma herself. She had similar hair to her – light blonde and slightly scraggly, like she couldn't afford a haircut – and Emma hated herself for knowing upon sight that the dress she was wearing didn't have a designer label. It was faded and too big, and the heels she was wearing with it didn't match.

She looked exactly like Emma had done at her first event. She suddenly realised why people had been so quick to stare.

Her heart tugged for this poor girl who was standing by herself looking like she'd wandered in by accident, and without thinking Emma found herself walking toward her. The girl didn't see her approaching, and when Emma appeared at her side, she jumped.

"Sorry," Emma said, reaching out to steady her. "I didn't mean to sneak up on you. I just wanted to say hi."

The girl looked at her with so much relief that Emma thought she might burst into tears. "Oh. That's… really nice of you."

"I'm Emma."

"Ashley," she replied, shaking Emma's hand. Her fingers were bony and clammy. "I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to be doing."

"Are you by yourself?"

"Sort of. I came as part of a group but I think he's taking it in turns to show each of us off."

Somehow, before she'd even asked the question, Emma knew who she was referring to. "Who's 'he'?"

"Mr Gold."

Emma shuddered. "Oh. Are you one of his artists?"

"Yeah. He signed a whole bunch of us recently and I think this is supposed to be my first outing. But everyone seems really rude and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to talk about."

Her honesty was a blessed relief in a room where everyone voted Republican and no one found it even the slightest bit morally reprehensible. "To be honest, that never gets any easier. It's been a while since I was the new kid, but I still have no idea what automatism is."

"You're an artist too?"

"Absolutely not," Emma said. Anyone else in the room would have recoiled with offence at that, but Ashley just laughed. "I'm a plus one. Virtually unimportant."

"You don't look unimportant," Ashley said awkwardly. She was eyeing Emma's clothes as she spoke. "I like your shirt."

"Thanks. Balmain."

Ashley blinked. "What does that mean?"

Emma felt herself blush. Over the past few years, she'd gotten so used to automatically reeling off the name of every designer she was wearing that she'd forgotten what it had been like to not know there was a difference between Emporio Armani and Armani Exchange.

"It's just the… never mind," she said. It was in that split second that she realised she'd become one of the people she'd been mocking for two years, and she hated herself for it. "So, you're signed to Gold. What made you choose him?"

"I didn't choose him."

"No?"

"No. I mean, he was at my grad show and he told me he was interested in signing me. He was the only person I spoke to, to be honest."

Emma frowned. "Wow. He must have offered you something pretty good."

"Well, a contract with a famous art dealer is amazing," Ashley said cheerfully. "I was just so honoured he approached me. I'm excited to be working with him."

It wasn't any of Emma's business – Ashley was working for the competition and, if anything, Emma should be steering well clear of her since she was probably signed at exactly the same time as Neal. But she still heard herself ask, "Is that normal?"

"What?"

"To sign with the first person who approaches you."

"It wasn't for me, was it, Swan Song?" The voice came from behind her, and instantly Emma's blood turned cold.

She forced a smile and turned around. "Neal."

"Good to see you again," he said, stepping forward like he was going to hug her. Emma stepped back, bumping into Ashley and nearly knocking her into the nearest canvas.

"Yeah," she said flatly. "Just great. Here to sniff out the canapés again, I see?"

"Or I'm sniffing out someone else," he replied. Emma shuddered. "How are you doing? You look great."

"I'm fine."

"How's Regina?"

"Also fine."

Neal glanced at Ashley before asking, "Why are you being weird?"

"Am I?" Emma asked, her voice deadpan. "I hadn't realised."

"Swan Song," he repeated the nickname she'd always hated. "Don't be like this."

"Don't be like what?"

"All snooty and cold. We used to be friends."

Rage suddenly burned from her toes up to the tight roots of her hair, and Emma had to bury her nails into the palms of her hands to stop herself from reaching out and smacking him.

"Neal," she said, trying to keep her voice level. "I'm going to say this as politely as I possibly can, because we're in a nice place and I don't want to damage the artwork by throwing you at it. But I would really, really appreciate it if you'd fuck off right now."

Both Neal and Ashley blinked at her. The fact that Neal even had the audacity left to be surprised by her hostility only made her fury worse.

Eventually he managed to school his features into something more relaxed. "God, okay. No need to be like that. I'll go."

But he didn't. He waited, obviously expecting Emma to say something to make him stay. When she just stared him down, her heart furiously rattling away inside her but her face perfectly resolute, he shrugged. "Same old Emma."

He walked off before she could question him on that. It felt like steam was rising from her skin.

It was only when she turned back around that she realised Ashley was still there. "Oh. Sorry about that."

"What was that about?" Ashley asked, her gaze darting across the room to where Neal was obviously still skulking away.

"Nothing. It's just a… We had a disagreement once. It's fine."

"Did you date?"

Emma nearly choked. "No. Not even at all."

"He's kind of cute," Ashley said thoughtfully, but before Emma could reach out and shake some sense into her, she noticed the shift in her expression: she'd gone from confused about the argument and yet sort of delighted to be part of it to looking over Emma's shoulder with anxiety creasing her forehead.

Emma turned and found Neal talking to Mr Gold, who was staring back at them with the cold expression that she'd always hated. When Emma met his gaze, he didn't look away or even blink. Neal kept chattering in his ear and Gold nodded once, but his icy blue eyes stayed on Emma until she eventually shuddered and turned away once more.

Ashley was still looking worried, so Emma forced a laugh and said, "You're a braver person than me agreeing to put up with him for the foreseeable future."

"Yeah," Ashley said slowly. Then, seemingly remembering that she was supposed to be overjoyed, she beamed. "Although I guess 10 years isn't that long."

"What?" Emma spluttered. "10 _years_?"

"What's wrong?"

"Is that how long your contract with him is?"

"Yeah," Ashley repeated. She frowned. "Is that bad?"

"I…" Emma stopped herself. The reality was, she didn't know – it sounded like a hell of a long time, but then again she still didn't know much about this stuff, no matter how much it felt like her entire head had been stuffed with acrylic paints. A decade-long contract might be a good thing.

She forced a smile. "To be honest, I have no idea. I'm sure you did your homework though, right? And Mr Gold is one of the best."

Ashley nodded. "Yeah. That's what he said too."

"That he's one of the best?"

"Well, he said he's the best there is."

"Ha," Emma said, shaking her head. "He sounds like Regina."

"Regina?" Ashley repeated. "Is that Regina Mills? He mentioned her."

"He did?"

"He said she's his competition. He warned me not to go near her because she's a snake."

Emma's smile tightened. "He would."

"Do you know her?"

"You could say that," Emma said, looking round and, as luck would have it, immediately spotting Regina on the other side of the gallery. Their eyes met, and Emma lifted a hand.

Ashley watched Regina wave back, her face warm to anyone who didn't recognise what she looked like when she was worried, and blinked. "Is that her?"

"Yep."

"Oh. She's not how I pictured her. You're friends?"

"Something like that," Emma said, then decided it was probably best to get the reveal over and done with because Gold could burrow any further into Ashley's brain. "We're together."

Ashley staggered sideways. "You two?"

"Yeah."

"As in, dating?"

"Yes, Ashley."

"Oh." Ashley's face had gone pink. "But you seem so nice."

Emma decided to ignore that comment. "Well, as soon as Gold gets you alone again, he'll tell you I'm a snake too. People round here shouldn't always be taken at face value – try to remember that, okay?"

Ashley nodded, her gaze straying toward where Gold and Neal were still talking. Emma looked up in time to see Neal's lecherous gaze skimming down Ashley's skinny body, and she shuddered.

"I mean it," Emma said more firmly. "Everyone's got an agenda, and everyone is looking to cash in on something. Look after yourself and don't get swept up by people if you have a bad feeling about them. It's important to trust your gut in here."

She waited for Ashley to ask who exactly she was supposed to have a bad feeling about, but instead she smiled. "You really are nice."

"Sort of. Mostly I just don't have anything to gain from tricking you."

Ashley laughed. "So you don't work for Regina?"

That question put a bad taste in Emma's mouth, but she forced a smile in return. "Nope. Well – not anymore."

* * *

It took far longer than Emma had been expecting for the questions to start. She'd been anticipating a bombardment the second she got into the car, but Regina stayed mostly silent until they reached the elevator in her apartment building.

"Who was that girl you were talking to all night?"

Emma looked over at her. "I was talking to lots of people."

"You know who I mean. The scruffy little blonde who looked like she'd just swum over from Alcatraz."

"Regina," Emma snapped. "She was wearing a cotton dress, not a burlap sack. Don't be such a snob."

"It's a little late for that," Regina muttered as they reached her floor. She stepped out first and pulled her keys out of her purse. Emma didn't have her own set yet.

When they walked inside, Emma shrugged off her jacket and hung it on her usual peg, which doubled as Henry's whenever he was round for the week. When he was there, his stuff took priority, and Emma's went in the kitchen.

"So?" Regina asked as Emma settled down on the couch and began to ease off her heeled boots. "Who was she?"

"Her name's Ashley. She's one of Gold's new recruits."

It was clear Regina had already guessed that much because she didn't even bother to spit with fury. "You shouldn't be talking to her, then."

"Why not? She only got signed a few weeks ago."

"Right around the same time as Mr Cassidy, I'll wager," Regina said, sitting beside her. "Did he bother you?"

"Of course he did," Emma replied, her throat tightening. "But I told him where he could go."

Regina reached out for Emma's knee and tapped her fingers against it. "You should have called me over."

"I don't need a security guard. I can look after myself."

"I'm aware of that, but I do enjoy keeping you safe. It makes me feel useful."

Emma laughed lightly. "Oh, because that's your only use in life?"

"Stop changing the subject. What were you talking to the girl about?"

"Regina, seriously? We were just chatting. She seemed nice and a bit lost and I remember being that person so I wanted to say hi."

Regina's nose wrinkled like that was the most distasteful thing she'd ever heard. "Was she grateful?"

"She was, yeah. She's quite sweet. I don't think she really knows what she's gotten herself into, though."

At once, she regretted saying that. Regina's ears perked up like a dog who'd just heard the treat jar being opened.

"Oh?" she asked. "What makes you say that?"

"I don't know. Gold was the first person to approach her and I think maybe she just got swept up by the whole thing. She's only just graduated."

"Of _course_," Regina suddenly seethed. "That was my idea two years ago – I was running around trying to find new, recently graduated artists to snap them up before anyone else found them, and now Gold's slithered in and is probably acting like this was all his idea. I bet he's badmouthing me to them all as well."

When Emma fell into an awkward silence, Regina threw her hands in the air. "I'm going to kill him. He's doing what I did except worse, because he's only signing rapists and teenage pickpocketers. Plus he thinks he can talk about me behind my back and I won't find out? Oh, he's got a nerve."

She was starting to ramble, so Emma squeezed her hand to try and lure her back to reality. "All you two ever do is bitch about the other. This is no different."

"It's different when he's signed the person who tried to—"

"I don't think Ashley's part of all that," Emma interrupted before Regina could go on another rant. "She seems a bit naive. I don't want this to be weird for you, but if I keep seeing her at events, I'm going to try and check she's okay."

Regina rolled her eyes. "Don't be so noble."

"I'm being nice. You should try it some time."

She wasn't surprised when Regina got up from the couch with a shake of her head. "You can babysit her if you want, but I wouldn't be shocked if Gold has already warned her off you. He's even sneakier than I am."

Emma laughed to herself as Regina began to walk toward the kitchen. Something about that final sentence made her jolt, though, and before Regina could leave the room Emma was calling out to her again.

"Hey, Regina?" she asked. "How long are your contracts with new artists?"

Regina turned with shock plastered all over her face. Emma couldn't really blame her – it was possibly the first art-related question she'd ever asked. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm just curious. Is there an average length?"

Regina leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms. "It depends. If it's someone with name recognition then I might sign them for a few years – only if I'm certain that they're a money-maker. If it's someone brand new whose potential isn't clear yet, probably only a few months. Just enough time to show a full collection and see how many of their paintings will actually sell."

A few months. "Right. That makes sense." Emma paused. "Have you… Have you ever heard of someone being signed for 10 years?"

"What?" Regina spluttered. "Why would I sign someone for a full decade? Most artists change their style every two or three years. That would be impossibly stupid."

"Gotcha," Emma said, leaning back against the cushions. It had sounded a bit crazy when Ashley had told her – what if the artist was no good and never made a penny for the dealer? What if they wanted to quit six months down the line only to be trapped in the contract for nine more years?

Or what if they turned out to be better than anyone had ever imagined, but instead of being able to move onto another art dealer who can offer them what they deserve, they're stuck with the guy they lost their gallery virginity to until they're no longer relevant on their own?

_Oh_, Emma realised all at once. She grimaced.

Regina spotted the movement immediately. "What?"

"Nothing," Emma replied, although Regina was already advancing on her.

"Tell me."

"It's nothing. Really."

"You're a terrible liar, Miss Swan. Did someone ask you if I'd sign them?"

Emma groaned. "No. For once, this is nothing to do with you."

"Then it doesn't matter if you tell me, does it?"

"God, you're pushy," Emma huffed. "Fine. It's Ashley. She told me that's how long her contract with Gold is."

For a second, Regina looked like she was going to laugh. Emma could see her thought process ticking along: _he's an idiot. He's backing himself into a corner by pouring money into people who might not have any potential._

But then she hesitated. "Did you see the contract?"

"Err – no. Do people normally carry those around with them?"

"No, but this little girl seems to be happy to spill every one of her trade secrets to you. I wouldn't be surprised if it was her phone wallpaper."

Emma rolled her eyes. "She's not a little girl, and she didn't tell me much else. Just that he was at her grad show, he was the first person who approached her, and she was excited to sign with him."

"Her grad show?" Regina asked. "Most colleges have their grad shows in June and July."

"So?"

"So, it's August. And she's already been signed for 10 years."

"Well," Emma said flatly. "I guess Gold's a fast mover."

Regina was looking at her in a way she remembered all too well: it was how she'd once considered her before she would mutter, "Go and talk to that artist over there. His contract with Moe is up soon, I hear. See if he's interested in signing with someone new."

It had always made her feel slightly important. Now it just made her feel dirty.

"You said you're planning to speak to her again?" Regina pressed, sitting back down beside her. Emma resisted the urge to slide away.

"Yeah. Probably."

"And you think she's harmless?"

"She's just hoping for her big break. I don't think she has a clue what Gold is really like."

"Mm," Regina purred, closing the gap between them and tucking a blonde curl behind Emma's ear. "You know – maybe you were right."

"About what?"

"About how it could be good for you to befriend her. Maybe she needs some support."

That wasn't why Regina was suggesting it at all. "Right. Support."

"Okay, fine," Regina conceded, looking Emma dead in her eyes. Her gaze was dark and smoky and, even then, made Emma go a little bit weak. "I'd like you to get to know her better."

"Why?"

"I need to find out what Gold's up to. He's insane, but he's not an idiot – if he's signing people for that long then there has to be something else in it for him. Beyond merely annoying me."

With a laugh, Emma said, "But I don't even come to that many events anymore."

"I know, and I'm not going to force you to go to any more. But _if_ you came along and _if_ Ashley was there and _if_ you managed to strike up a conversation about the terms of her arrangement with Gold, I'd find a very interesting way to express my gratitude."

Just like that, Emma's heart dropped. No matter how tenderly Regina was touching her thigh or how tempting her words were, Emma could still read between them.

She looked around her at the apartment that she still hadn't been fully invited into and asked, "What would you do if I said no?"

Regina blinked. "Said no to what?"

"To helping you. What if I said I didn't want to do that stuff anymore?"

She couldn't bring herself to say 'your dirty work', but Regina instantly knew what she meant. Her face collapsed.

After a long pause, she tentatively said, "I wouldn't force you, if that's what you mean?"

Emma wondered if that was supposed to make her feel better.

"Right," she said, swallowing. "Things aren't… Things aren't back to how they were before, are they?"

"What do you mean?"

"Back at the start. When I just worked for you and had to talk to whoever you asked me to and—"

"Emma," Regina interrupted, lifting one hand. "Didn't I promise you I was going to fix the whole Neal mess?"

"Yeah."

"And didn't I say I'd do whatever I can to get Gold out of our lives too?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, I still plan to. I'm still trying to. But I can't do it alone and I need you to help me. Please. I wouldn't ask if I didn't really need you."

She had a point, and the fact that she'd said 'please' wasn't lost on Emma. She forced a smile and touched Regina's hand.

"Yeah. Sorry – you're right. Of course I'll help."

Regina's face brightened into a beam that usually made Emma's heart sing, but right then it didn't have the desired effect. It didn't matter what Regina said – a very large part of her still remembered what had happened the last time she had stopped being useful to her, and she wasn't sure she'd had enough time or therapy to stop feeling a little bit like a means to an end.

As if she'd heard that, Regina suddenly took hold of her chin and said, "You're very important to me, Emma. I'm not going anywhere."

Some kind of relief finally hit Emma in her chest. "Promise?"

"I promise."

"And can we…" Emma started, then took a deep breath. "When this is done, can we talk properly?"

Regina looked a bit bemused, but she nodded. "Of course we can, darling. We can talk about anything you want."

Emma had hoped Regina would say they could talk right then, but with another squeeze of her hand, she was getting up and walking into the kitchen. Emma was left on the sofa with her feet tucked beneath her, wondering whether she should still be worried, or whether this was just enough for now.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:** I forgot to mention this at the start of the story because I'm so used to using AO3 now and that's where all my author notes are - this fic is **five chapters only** and will be updated every Sunday. Also, the comments system on this website is so shitty that I can't reply to anything unless I send it via private message, so if you want a reply then I really recommend reading this on AO3 instead! _

_Follow me on Twitter, where I never stop chatting, at _starsthatburn x_

* * *

**Chapter three**

Over the next few weeks, Emma's desk at work only became more precarious. The three projects she'd taken the lead on had turned into five, and with the majority of them going to print in the following month, she'd taken to piling everything up into her very own office-based Bryce Canyon. People knew not to come too close to her, because her new paper trays hadn't arrived yet and they didn't want to become the latest person to get yelled at for accidentally knocking an entire pile of proofs onto the floor.

No one, except for Elsa. She hadn't received the memo that Emma's desk was a danger zone.

"Careful," Emma snapped as she came ricocheting towards her in her wheelie chair. It was Monday morning and Emma had been to a grossly unsuccessful event the previous afternoon – no Ashley in sight, but Neal had sniffed her out within minutes of her walking through the door. In the end she'd left after a half hour. It had taken Regina twice as long to notice she was gone.

"Sorry," Elsa said, her voice even giddier than usual. "Good weekend?"

"Not especially. Yours?"

"Pretty good. I mean, yeah – great, actually."

Emma glanced up to find her grinning. She frowned. "That's… nice. Did you do a lot of drugs, by any chance?"

"No! I mean, yeah, obviously," Elsa corrected herself, perching her elbow on the edge of Emma's overflowing desk and leaned her chin on her hand. "But that's not why it was good."

For a second, Emma waited for an explanation. Then she realised which hand Elsa was leaning on.

Her mouth dried out. "Wait. What is that?"

Elsa shoved her fist directly under Emma's nose. "August proposed, Emma! It was such a surprise and I'm so happy."

"Holy shit," Emma spluttered, grabbing Elsa's hand and examining the diamond that was sparkling from her ring finger. "That's amazing. God, congratulations."

Elsa squealed and dove forward for a hug. Emma clung onto her, squeezing back the tears in her eyes so they wouldn't be visible when they pulled apart.

"Tell me everything," she said, continuing to hold onto Elsa's hand as she started explaining exactly how August had asked her to marry her.

And, oh, Emma was the worst friend in the world. She was smiling and she was happy – she _was_ – but the tiny part of her that couldn't be truly pleased for another person when they were doing better than she was had reared its ugly head, and all she could think of was how Elsa and August had been together for less time than her and Regina and yet they were already flying ahead of them.

_Stop it_, she snapped at herself, nodding along to Elsa's story. _She's your best friend. Stop being so ugly._

Because she _was_ being ugly. She could feel the jealousy dripping from her.

"Elsa, that's amazing," she said eventually. "I'm so pleased for you. And you're going to have the most gorgeous wedding ever, I can already tell. When do you think it'll be?"

Elsa delivered the final blow. "Probably early next year, actually."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah – maybe in January or February. I know it's soon but we're just so excited and it's not like we have any reason to wait, right? What's the point in putting it off?"

What's the point, indeed.

"And obviously nothing's planned yet," Elsa continued, squeezing Emma's hand as hard as possible, "but I know some of the stuff I want already, and I was really hoping you'd be one of my bridesmaids."

Finally, part of Emma's salt-crusted jealousy vanished. "Really? Me?"

"Of course, you! You're my best friend and you can finally walk in heels. I'd ask you to be my maid of honour, to be honest, but we both know what will happen if I don't ask my sister. Anna can be so—"

"I know, I get it," Emma said. "Of course I'd love to. And I'll help with absolutely anything I can – you name it."

Elsa squealed again and reached out for another hug. She nearly knocked over a pile of pages in the process, but Emma let her have that one. Her happiness was infectious and even though Emma's stupid, selfish little heart was aching, she couldn't bring herself to let it ruin the moment.

* * *

"The biker?" Regina asked on the phone later that evening. "Seriously?"

"Seriously what?"

"I don't know. I just didn't think he was the marriage type. Is Elsa happy?"

"She's ecstatic. It's nice," Emma said. The office had emptied out and she was applying her make-up at her desk ready for another gallery opening that night. After a pause, she added, "They're thinking of getting married in January. Because they don't want to wait any longer."

She waited for Regina to realise how romantic that was and maybe suggest something similar, but instead all she said was, "That's sweet, although a bit inconsiderate."

"Inconsiderate?"

"Well, it gives people hardly any time to prepare."

"I guess," Emma sighed. After a beat, she added, "I'm going to be a bridesmaid."

"Are you?" Regina asked, perking up a bit. "That'll be nice. I can't wait to see your dress."

"You mean, you want to come?"

"Of course I want to come, darling. I love weddings. And I assume I'm invited since Elsa knows I'll buy an excellent present."

Emma laughed. "She didn't mention it, but you're probably right. She'll put a bookmarked copy of the Tiffany catalogue on my desk at some point."

"I'd better start budgeting for it then. Emma, I've got to go," Regina suddenly said. "A meeting's just come up. Am I still okay to pick you up at 7:30?"

Emma glanced at the clock: it was already 6:40. "Yeah, of course. I'll see you then."

She wasn't surprised in the slightest when she received a text at 7:20.

_Still in meeting. I'll be very late to the gallery so if you want to go home instead, I won't mind._

Emma sighed. She was in the office bathroom adding the finishing touches to her outfit, which she happened to be delighted with that evening. Originally, she'd planned to wear her favourite black suit with a glossy shirt underneath, but perhaps because she was feeling slightly tense and uncertain after her conversation with Elsa, she'd decided to forgo the shirt at the last moment. The tux jacket was tightly fitted enough to hold her naked breasts in place when she buttoned it shut, and her long gold necklace accented the whole thing perfectly. There was no fucking way she was getting undressed again now.

So she texted Regina back saying she'd meet her there and finished things off by tying her hair into a slick bun at the base of her neck. With her smoky eyeshadow and towering heels, she looked like the English teacher at school who everyone had a crush on but was far too terrified of to actually approach.

She straightened her spine and nodded. So what if her best friend was getting married to a guy she'd only been dating for a year while Emma's girlfriend kept running for the hills whenever she tried to mention the future? She was young and hot and had had her eyebrows threaded three days earlier, which meant she was ready to go out and mingle and show everyone just how capable she was.

The second she walked into the gallery, half the room turned to stare. Emma wasn't sure she'd ever shown up to one of these events alone before, and for a moment she thought maybe they were about to ask her to leave again. But then she realised they were admiring her outfit – admiring _her_ – and she lifted her chin. She nodded to a few people she knew and grabbed a glass of champagne from a nearby tray, and then she started walking. The gallery that night was small and not particularly full, which made it easy to see the artwork and who else was wandering around. She hoped she'd see Ashley, but before she could start searching, a voice wafted over her shoulder.

"Wow. Is this all for me?"

Emma groaned and turned around. "You need to learn when to quit."

"Why would I want to do that?" Neal asked, grinning. He stepped forward and kissed Emma's cheek before she could back away. "You look amazing, Swan Song. Where's the old ball and chain?"

"Don't call her that."

"Fine. Where's your scary bodyguard?"

"Neal," Emma snapped. "What do you want?"

"I just want to chat. I feel like you're avoiding me."

"Avoiding you?" Emma spluttered. "Of course I am. We're not friends. I don't want to talk to you."

"That's a bit harsh," he replied, folding his arms. "Let's go somewhere quieter and catch up. I won't try and kiss you again, I promise."

Emma felt like her head was about to explode, but thankfully before she could reach out and choke him, she spotted a blonde head over his shoulder. Ashley was standing in the corner by herself, quietly observing the nearest painting, and without a single word to Neal, Emma walked off. She felt him falter like he was going to follow her, but thankfully he saw the purpose in her stride and had just enough common sense left to let her go.

By the time Emma reached Ashley, she wasn't alone anymore. A tall, hammy man was towering over her, speaking too loudly into her ear and sticking his belly right into her personal space. Emma recognised him from the back and rolled her eyes.

"Moe," she said loudly, making him turn around. He glared as soon as he saw her. "I need to borrow your latest sounding board."

Ashley beamed from behind him, but Moe's scowl deepened. "We're talking."

"No, you're talking. Ashley, I need to show you something."

Ashley looked nervously up at him like she was expecting him to hold out an arm and stop her from leaving. After an awkward pause, she stepped around his vast frame and hurried toward Emma, who led her over to the opposite side of the gallery and grabbed another glass of champagne on the way.

"Thanks," Ashley said, taking it with a shaky hand. She pushed a loose strand of hair away from her face. "I wasn't sure whether we could just take these or not."

She was wearing another ill-fitting dress and pantyhose that were slightly bobbly. Emma smiled. "Rule number one of these things: never get cornered by Moe French."

"Is that his name?"

"Yeah. He's the worst of a very bad bunch."

"He… seemed to not like you very much."

Emma smirked. "He once tried to threaten Regina so I confronted him in front of everyone. He didn't enjoy that."

A new wave of adoration swept over Ashley's face. "Wow. I guess I shouldn't mess with you, huh?"

"I'm only scary to assholes."

"Like Neal, you mean?"

Emma automatically grimaced. "You know his name?"

"Yeah. After you left last time, Mr Gold introduced us. He wants us to do the circuit together and become 'allies'."

It was such a typical bullshit word for Gold to use that Emma couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Well, he seems to have it all planned out for you, doesn't he?" She paused, remembering what Regina had asked her to do. The words tasted bad in her mouth as she asked, "Do you think that's how it'll be for your entire contract?"

Ashley sipped her champagne and shrugged. "Probably. I mean, he's made it pretty clear that while he's representing me, he wants me to act in a certain way."

That reminded Emma all too clearly of another arrangement that she'd once had.

"Right," she said slowly. She knew what she had to do next – Regina had asked for her help, and it didn't seem like it would be too hard to get some more information out of this girl, but Ashley was looking at her with so much adulation that it was hard to get the questions out. That slick, dirty feeling was creeping over her again and she didn't like it at all.

But then, before she could even try, Ashley spoke up of her own accord. "My first exhibition is in a month."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. He said he's going to show 15 of my works over six weeks."

"Wow," Emma said, for once actually understanding what a big deal that was. "That'll be huge for you. We should go shopping once you're raking in all that dollar."

Ashley giggled, taking another sip. "I'm not sure there will be that much dollar. Once Gold's commission is taken off, I won't have that much left."

And just like that, an alarm bell was ringing. Emma smiled tightly and tried to sound casual. "Oh? I don't really know much about commission."

"Doesn't Regina talk about it?"

"Not very often. I find her work kind of boring."

"Well," Ashley said eagerly, happy to be teaching her something, "Gold obviously takes a portion of every sale to account for the gallery space and the marketing and everything. It's quite a lot but I guess it's just like taxes, and you get the benefit of it later."

"How much is a lot?"

"Sixty percent."

Emma nearly choked on her champagne. "_Sixty_?"

Regina only took a third of that for her contracts, and that was on big deals where the artist was rich enough to barely notice tens of thousands of dollars being handed to someone else. She could get away with more, but she didn't.

Ashley was chattering away, trying to explain the logic, but Emma was barely listening. All of a sudden, she was feeling angry for a very different reason.

"And will that figure change over time?" Emma asked. "Like, say you get really famous and your name recognition is enough that you don't need any marketing – will his commission be less?"

She watched with a sinking heart as Ashley wrinkled her nose. "I don't think so, no."

"So it's 60 percent for the next 10 years?"

"I guess. Is that bad?"

_Stop asking that_, Emma wanted to snap at her. _Do some research before you sign a contract with someone who looks like a goblin._

But instead she shrugged and forced a smile. "I'm really not sure. Maybe you should ask Regina."

"Speaking of whom," Ashley said, perking up slightly, "I think she just arrived."

Emma turned toward the main door to see that she was right: Regina was sweeping into the gallery wearing a dark grey shift dress that she normally only wore to work. She obviously hadn't had time to get changed after her meeting, although she'd managed to reapply her favourite slash of lipstick in the car.

She paused to greet the gallery owner, shaking his hand hard enough to make the muscles in her arms pop, and Emma watched wistfully. For a second, she wondered if Regina would spot her at all.

Then she looked up, met Emma's eye, and froze. Her gaze drifted down from her hair to her suit to her nearly bare chest, and Emma saw the way her expression changed.

For once, Regina didn't pause to network. She brushed past every single person in the room who was vying for her attention and headed straight for the woman who looked like every one of her fantasies rolled up into a neat package.

"Emma," she said, her voice just a shade darker than usual as she swept in for a kiss. "You look… amazing."

Emma smiled, her cheeks going pink. "I'm glad you finally made it. Did the meeting go okay?"

"Oh, it was fine. I'm just annoyed it went on for so long," Regina replied. She sounded distracted, and her eyes kept drifting downward. "How are you?"

"I'm great. Have you met Ashley?"

Regina instantly snapped to attention, turning toward the young woman who'd been at the centre of their conversations for the past few weeks. "No, I don't believe so. It's lovely to meet you. Are you an artist?"

Her charisma was as disarming as ever, and Ashley instantly started talking. Emma could tell that Regina wasn't fully paying attention, though – not only did she already know most of this stuff, but her body kept twitching like it was being lured toward something else. Emma smirked and edged to one side, making it easier for Regina to glance at her without looking like she wasn't paying attention to what Ashley was saying. When she spotted the long necklace that was trailing down into Emma's bare cleavage, she sighed wistfully.

"We were just talking about Ashley's first exhibition," Emma eventually interjected. "Gold's got it all planned out."

Regina couldn't help herself. "I bet he does," she said bitterly, causing Ashley to let out a nervous giggle. "You must be very excited."

"I am, but I'm really nervous too. It would be so awful if nothing sold and Mr Gold regrets ever signing me."

She'd opened the perfect door, and Emma watched as Regina casually stepped through it. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. That's exactly why we put release clauses into our contracts."

Ashley frowned. "Release clauses?"

Emma was suddenly filled with the urge to step forward and shake this idiotic girl. Regina twitched like she was considering it too. "You didn't check for one?"

"I'm… not sure. What do they look like?"

_Oh, Jesus fuck._

Regina glanced at Emma before saying, "Well…"

But before she could explain anything, Emma heard a tapping sound that always made her feel violently nauseous.

"Regina," Mr Gold said softly from behind them. "Ah, and Miss Swan. Trying to sabotage my work again, are we?"

Regina snapped her head round with a glare. "When have I ever cared enough to sabotage your work?"

"Sometimes I think it's all you care about," he said smoothly, leaning on his cane. His gaze shifted to Ashley. "Do you remember the conversation we had after your last foray, Miss Boyd?"

Ashley's smile froze. "Of course."

"What did I tell you?"

She glanced at Regina before saying, "That I'm not supposed to spend my entire evening talking to the competition."

Regina opened her mouth to protest, but Gold beat her to it. "Exactly. When you sign with me, you need to talk to the right kind of people. This isn't who I had in mind."

Emma desperately wanted to snatch his cane and beat him over the head with it, but instead she turned to look at Ashley. She'd gone slightly pale, and she was backing away from everybody like she was afraid of getting in even more trouble just from being in the same breathing space as them.

"Sorry, Mr Gold," she muttered, tugging at her ill-fitting dress.

"Good. And Regina – I really thought you'd know better by now. What is it with your sudden obsession with my artists?"

"I'm just checking exactly how many of them are rapists before I file my police report," Regina replied sweetly. Gold's eyes flashed.

"Very amusing. How many times do I need to politely ask you to stop making baseless accusations about people?"

"You could try asking politely just the once, but I'm not sure it'll make any difference."

Ashley backed away once more, and Emma could tell she was about to hurry off into another corner and hope she ran into someone her boss wouldn't be actively furious about. But then Gold leaned closer to Regina and delivered his parting shot.

"Remember, dearie – she belongs to me. If I see you or your little lapdog speaking with Miss Boyd again, I'll make sure you regret it."

Emma was the only one watching Ashley, which meant she was the only person who saw all the colour drain from her face. Without thinking, she stepped forward, pushing past Gold and Regina as they squared up to one another, and grabbed her wrist.

"Emma?"

"Miss _Swan_."

Emma ignored the voices calling after her as she dragged Ashley toward the exit. Behind her, she felt Regina shift position to block Gold from going after them.

"Get out of my way," he was snarling.

"Oh, and how exactly do you plan to catch up with them? Unless your stick doubles as a skateboard, you'd be better off staying right here."

Ashley didn't say a word as Emma pulled her out into the street. It was a warm evening and Emma was sweating with rage beneath her tight jacket, but she kept marching as fast as possible until they reached the nearest bar.

She finally let go of Ashley's wrist and opened the door. "In."

She had a split second to realise that she sounded exactly like Regina had when they'd first met, but then Ashley was diligently creeping past her and heading for the nearest empty table.

When they each had a drink in hand – Emma was relieved to see that Ashley was a spirit drinker like herself – Emma sat back with a sigh. "I'm really sorry about all that. Things can get… kind of messy in there."

Ashley nodded tightly, sipping at her gin and tonic. "Does _everyone_ hate each other?"

"Not everyone. There's a sweet couple called Marco and Archie who you'd love, and the people I normally hang out with are supermodels who can get you cocaine quicker than most people can get a beer. Sometimes it can actually be fun. Things are just a bit tense right now, and unfortunately you're caught up in the middle of it."

She watched Ashley swallow. Around her neck, there was a silver chain that had stained her skin green.

"Mr Gold said I belong to him," she eventually said. Her voice was flat. "What did he mean?"

Emma was pretty certain Regina wouldn't appreciate her spilling all the current messy details of their lives across the table, but right then, she didn't care.

"Ashley… Look. I'm sure you already have an inkling of this, but Gold isn't a very nice guy. He's good at what he does, but he's also sneaky and he doesn't care about what happens to his artists as long as he makes money off them. I'm worried you jumped into a contract with him without really checking the fine print, which means you're stuck with him because he's never going to just let you walk away of your own free will."

"But I barely got the chance to read it!" Ashley blurted out. "I met him at my grad show and he asked for a meeting the next day. He had the contract ready and wanted me to sign it then and there."

"And did you?"

"No – I said I needed to read it through, and he said fine, but it was a 24-hour offer and if I didn't sign, I'd lose the opportunity forever. Whenever I suggested any changes, he said I was ruining my chances. I got myself so worked up over it and in the end, I thought I was doing the right thing for my career."

Emma sighed, rubbing a hand over her forehead. "So you're locked in for 10 years?"

"Yeah."

"With no release clause?"

"I… I don't think so. I don't remember seeing one. It didn't even occur to me that—"

"Can I be honest with you?" Emma interrupted. She suddenly felt tired and a little bit furious – both at Gold for being such a cold-hearted snake and at Ashley for not being smart enough to notice. "Gold's deliberately trapped you into a contract where you'll be forced to make money for him just so you can live. Most artists only sign for a few months or years – I asked Regina about it. If you wanted to change your style or take a break then that would allow you to do so, but Gold doesn't want that. He wants you to be stuck with him so that all you can do is churn out painting after painting, even if they're not particularly good, just so you'll be able to survive. It will be more about his name than yours, and he's going to make a tasty little profit each time without even having to lift a finger. And he's deliberately trying to warn you off me and Regina because he knows we'll be honest with you, and he wants you to think we're trying to trick you. We're not – you can walk out of here right now if you want. I'm just worried about you, and Regina is too."

Ashley was watching her, shellshocked, with her fingers curled round the edge of her seat. She looked terrified and hurt, and she also looked disappointed. Emma realised right then that she'd suspected the same thing since day one.

Eventually she opened her mouth. Her voice was crackly. "How do I get out of it?"

"I have no idea," Emma replied. "I don't know much about any of this – I just know when someone's a bad person. And Gold is definitely a bad person."

That seemed to jog a memory inside Ashley's head, because she suddenly asked, "Why do you and Regina hate Neal?"

It was something Emma desperately avoided discussing, but she'd run out of chances to keep skirting around the issue.

"Because he attacked me," she said flatly. She wasn't sure she'd actually said it out loud before. "It was a while ago. Regina was trying to get him to sign with her and he kept messing with her, so I went round to talk to him. He tried to…" She swallowed and shook her head. "He's just not a nice guy, and yet Gold signed him anyway. He doesn't care about who he's got as long as he looks like the winner."

Ashley just nodded. Emma decided not to take it personally that she didn't seem particularly shocked.

She took another long drink of gin, practically draining the rest of the glass, before straightening her spine. "I think I need to go home now."

Emma jolted with disappointment, but nodded.

"Okay. Do you want a ride? Regina has a driver."

"No. I… I think I'll walk. I just need some air."

"Right," Emma said, pausing. She reached for her cell phone. "What's your number?"

"Why?"

"Because I want to make sure you're okay later."

Ashley's face fluttered with relief at what was probably the first genuine act of kindness she'd experienced in weeks. She reeled off her number, and once Emma had plugged it into her phone, she walked out. Emma was left sitting with a full glass of whisky and a headache that was threatening to blind her.

* * *

Regina was vibrating for the entire ride home. It was obvious that Emma didn't want to talk about what had happened because her forehead was furrowed into deep lines and her fingers were fidgeting in her lap, but as the minutes passed, it was becoming increasingly difficult for Regina to resist asking. She kept crossing and uncrossing her legs, wetting her lips, turning to Emma and opening her mouth before hurriedly looking out the window once more. Eventually, right as they pulled up outside her apartment, she blurted out, "God, will you just _tell_ me?"

Emma sighed. "Tell you what?"

"You know what. What did Ashley say?"

"Can we not do this right now?" Emma asked, unclipping her seatbelt and saying goodnight to Sidney.

Regina hurried after her, sticking close to her shoulder as she demanded, "When, then?"

"I'm just thinking, Regina. Can you chill out for half a second?"

"No," Regina snapped without a trace of irony. She followed Emma into the elevator. "Just tell me."

"You already know most of it anyway. We just talked."

"About what?"

"Regina," Emma bit out, pressing the button for the 19th floor over and over again even though they were already moving. "Look, this girl is getting her life ruined by that little shit of a man and I'm trying to come up with a way to help her. Just let me think."

"But I can help! I _want_ to help."

"No, you don't – you want to get back at Gold."

"Oh, don't give me that," Regina said. "We both want to get back at him. He's a vindictive little slug and this has always been about trying to take him down. That doesn't mean I don't want to help that poor girl now she's been dragged into it."

The elevator doors pinged and Emma stepped out. "Fine. I guess we both want to choke him a little bit."

"I've known him longer, which means I get first dibs," Regina replied. Emma turned to throw her half a smile before they reached her front door. As soon as Regina had unlocked it, Emma kicked off her heels and headed for the kitchen. "Where are you going?"

"I need a drink."

"Emma…"

"I'm not going to throw back a whole bottle of WhistlePig and then throw up in your shower – I just need something to take the edge off."

Regina watched as she poured a glass of red wine and took three long sips. When it was clear that she wasn't about the drain the whole thing in one go, she relaxed slightly and approached the centre island.

"Please tell me."

Her voice had gotten softer, which meant Emma felt less uncomfortable about saying, "Gold's contract sounds bogus."

"I gathered that much," Regina replied. "What did she tell you?"

Emma sighed. She could remember Gold's words too clearly. _Trying to sabotage my work again, are we?_

She was just as bad as the rest of them. Ashley had confided in her, and here she was, about to spill everything she'd told her just so someone could use it to manipulate her.

She turned away and headed toward the sink. "She's scared. I tried to comfort her."

"And how did you do that?"

"By making it clear that we'll help however we can. I just want her to know she can trust us even if Gold says she can't."

She looked down into the sink as she spoke so she wouldn't have to meet Regina's eye, but from the silence that followed, it was clear her answer was less than impressive. She heard movement behind her.

"I see," Regina said, slowly approaching her. As soon as she was directly behind her, she reached out for Emma's glass of wine and took a sip. "Do you think she does?"

"What?"

"Trust us."

"I don't know. She barely knows us. I think she's confused by it all."

"Right. And do you?"

"Do I what?"

A sudden breath of air against Emma's ear made her shiver. "Do you trust me?"

"You know I do."

"Then why don't you want to tell me what happened?"

Emma turned around abruptly, snatching the glass back. "Because I don't want to be just another person who pushes her around for my own gain. If she told me stuff in confidence then I shouldn't be blabbing about it to my girlfriend."

The way Regina raised her eyebrows let Emma know that she'd made a good point, but she also knew it wasn't going to be enough. Regina was looking at her steadily, her eyes assessing every inch of her face before they slowly dropped to her neck and then further down to her chest. Emma was backed into the corner, and all she could do was cling onto her wine glass and hope it wasn't about to get spilled on her half-naked body.

But then Regina took it from her once more and placed it far away from them on the opposite counter. When she reached out again, Emma's breath caught.

"I don't need to know the things she confided in you about, Emma," she said quietly, trailing her finger from Emma's throat down to her sternum. "I don't want to know. If she trusts you then I won't try and ruin that. But I would still like to know the important details."

Emma swallowed. "Like what?"

"Like what made you say that Gold's contract is bogus."

The finger that was lightly tracing over her skin was making it hard to concentrate, and eventually Emma stammered, "Other than the fact that it's a decade long?"

"Well, yes. That's a red flag alright." Regina's hand slipped lower, meeting the button that was holding Emma's jacket together, and paused there. "I have a proposition for you."

Her other hand grabbed the counter behind Emma, and suddenly Emma was pinned there with Regina's body pressed hard against her own. She had a determined look in her eye that Emma was never quite sure whether she should be afraid of or turned on by, and her lips were deliciously pursed as she waited for a response.

Emma stammered, "What are you doing?"

"Ask me what my proposition is."

"Okay," Emma said. "What's your proposition?"

Regina leaned in and kissed Emma beneath her ear, making her moan immediately. Her toes curled against the cold kitchen floor as Regina's lips moved slightly lower.

The moment Emma felt herself starting to tremble, Regina smirked. She edged back up again until her mouth was pressed directly against the shell of her ear.

"For every thing you tell me," she murmured, her right hand toying with the jacket button again, "I'll make you come."

Emma shivered. "But I'm—"

"Nothing personal," Regina clarified. "Nothing you think she wouldn't want you to tell me. But anything that might help me."

Barely able to breathe, Emma choked out, "You're a manipulative little shit."

"I know."

"I'm not going to do it."

"Aren't you?" Regina asked coolly, popping the button open. Her hand slid inside, skating over Emma's stomach and finding it taut and conflicted. "I don't think I'm asking for a lot. And I'm willing to give you so much in return."

Her heeled foot suddenly slipped between Emma's legs and kicked them apart, and then her hand was sinking lower. When it began pulling on the zipper on her pants, Emma could only groan.

"Em," Regina said softly, her fingertips skating over the band of Emma's panties. Emma wished she could squeeze her thighs together to relieve some of the pressure, but her legs were forced apart and Regina's knee was pressed between them. It wasn't close enough to grind down on, and that only made it worse. "Please."

Emma wriggled automatically, her chest heaving against Regina's. Her jacket slipped further open and she shivered when her nipples grazed against the rough fabric of her dress. "I don't know that much."

"That's okay. Tell me what you can."

"But it's not even _new_."

"I'll be the judge of that," Regina hummed, kissing her neck again.

"I…" Emma started, then groaned. "She said that Gold picked her out at her grad show, and asked for a meeting the next day. When she got there, the contract was already written."

It wasn't much at all, but Regina sighed like Emma had just discovered the Third Testament for her. As soon as her sentence was over, Regina's hand slid down into her panties.

"That's very good," she murmured, circling her finger over her clit. Emma could already feel how soaked she was and she had to force herself not to buck her hips. "I think you earned an orgasm with that."

She suddenly removed her hand and reached for Emma's pants, tugging them down and pulling them over her feet. Her panties followed immediately after. They ended up on the other side of the kitchen somewhere, and when Regina stood back up again, Emma was left wearing nothing but a gold necklace and a jacket that was hanging open.

"God," Regina said softly, stepping toward her again. Her palm settled between Emma's legs and cupped her gently. "You're more beautiful than ever."

Emma tried to respond, but the sensation of her cunt being squeezed and then released made her brain feel like it was on fire. She just gasped, clinging onto the counter for dear life as Regina caressed her with the full palm of her hand.

"And you're soaked," she commented, pulling away so she could hold her glimmering hand in front of Emma's face. Emma caught the scent of herself and, without thinking, leaned forward and dragged her tongue over Regina's palm. Regina smirked and shoved her back. "That's mine, thank you. Not yours."

But instead of licking it clean herself, she replaced it between Emma's thighs and slipped a finger inside her. Emma's pussy felt so wet and swollen that she barely registered it entering her, and she groaned and rocked up onto the balls of her feet from the dissatisfaction. Her whimper was cut off when Regina leaned forward and kissed her.

"Whiny," Regina muttered as she pulled away. Before Emma could reply, she thrust a second finger inside her and raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Better?"

"Yes," Emma gasped, nodding. "Thank you."

"Are you close already?"

"I don't… Maybe."

"Honestly, Emma," Regina tsked, wasting no time in setting up a steady rhythm between her thighs. Her thumb was planted against Emma's clit and every time she drove in deeper, Emma groaned. She let go of the counter and clung onto Regina's shoulders instead, hoping her legs wouldn't give way entirely as her girlfriend fucked her senselessly into the edge of it. She could feel a bruise forming on her lower back, but she paid no mind to it as Regina finally caved and added another finger to her pussy.

"Regina," she whined, rising up onto her tiptoes again. Heat was coursing through her and for some reason it felt like it had been years since she'd last felt it that intensely. Regina's hair was in her face and the smell of it was killing her, and when she felt those three fingers inside her curl and rub against just the right spot, she cried out loudly enough to wake everyone on their floor.

"God, are you _gushing_ on me?" Regina asked, pretending and failing to sound displeased. She was still fucking Emma until every last tremor had left her, and the comforting arm around her waist was making her feel safe and deliciously trapped all at once.

When Emma finally sank back against the counter, she didn't trust herself to remove her face from Regina's shoulder. She was trembling and sweaty and her legs were weak.

"That's one," Regina said cheerfully, stroking her back. "What else have you got for me?"

"Fuck you," Emma muttered into her dress.

"No, not yet. How are you feeling?"

"Shaky."

"I can remedy that."

Regina suddenly grabbed her thighs and hitched her up, forcing her to sit back on the counter. Emma looked down at her with wide eyes that were half annoyed and half excited.

"It's cold," she snapped.

"You're such an ungrateful brat," Regina replied coolly, shoving two fingers back inside Emma and laughing when she gasped. "Now. Would you like to tell me anything else?"

Her fingers went still and her face was expectant. Emma only lasted 10 seconds before she groaned and clamped her thighs together.

"She… Ashley didn't get time to properly review the contract or hire a lawyer," she said. "Gold wanted her to sign it right away."

"And did she?"

"No. She took it home but he told he she only had 24 hours. If she didn't get back in time, he'd find someone else." Emma paused, considering this. "He sounds like someone else I know."

Regina rolled her eyes and pulled her fingers out. "I wasn't trying to scam you, thank you very much. I was just impatient to get you into bed."

Before Emma could protest, Regina dropped to her knees and tugged Emma closer to the edge of the counter.

"But I think that still counts as another one," she said, giving Emma a second to adjust her weight before she leaned in and licked her clit. It was still tender and Emma gasped, bucking her hips up. When Regina did it again, it was softer and felt like magic. "Thank you for telling me."

Emma couldn't reply – she was leaning back on one hand while the other gripped Regina's hair. It was always so soft and seductive beneath her fingers, and she took great pleasure in grabbing it just a little bit too hard.

Regina didn't seem to mind. On the contrary: she moaned and pressed herself in deeper, swirling her tongue around Emma's soaked pussy until she was shaking and struggling to breathe. When Regina thrust her fingers back inside, Emma lifted her legs and hooked them over Regina's shoulders, using her heels to pin her against her cunt until the spasms shooting through it had finally subsided. When Regina clambered back to her feet, the lower half of her face was shimmering and she was looking so pleased with herself that Emma couldn't help but moan.

Regina leaned close, not kissing her but hovering just an inch away, and softly asked, "Anything else?"

Emma laughed. "No."

"I don't believe you."

"Regina, will you give a girl a break?"

"Absolutely not," Regina replied, grabbing Emma's hand and yanking her off the counter. When she pulled her in for a kiss that was wet and tasted of sex, she didn't complain – she just moaned and wound her arms around her neck and didn't question why she was suddenly being walked away from the sink and toward the centre of the room.

Then she felt herself being spun round and forced up against something cold. The island was made of granite and felt sharp against her breasts and stomach as she was bent over it.

"Shit!" she yelped, earning her a quick slap to the ass. "Regina, please – I don't have anything else for you."

"I'm sure that's not true," Regina replied, gathering Emma's wrists at the small of her back and pinning them there. Her fingers dipped down between Emma's legs and slowly stroked her from her clit up to her entrance. "Give me something. Anything."

"Regina—"

"Just a little _taster_."

Emma groaned and pressed her hot forehead against the counter. Her entire body felt like it was on fire and she wracked her brains for something else that might be useful.

She landed on something just as Regina was pulling her fingers away. "Wait! The commission. I found out how much he takes."

Regina paused. "How much?"

"Sixty. Sixty percent."

"_Sixty_?"

"Yeah."

Another pause. "Are you absolutely certain?"

"She didn't know it was a lot. And she doesn't have a release clause. If she'd tried to add one, Gold would have dropped her."

There was another long, agonising pause. Emma could hear Regina thinking. "So she's locked in for 10 years, giving the majority of the money she earns to him, with no choice but to keep going?"

Nodding furiously, Emma said, "Yeah. But that's all she said, Regina, I swear. We didn't talk for long."

She felt a thumb brush thoughtfully over her trapped wrists. She worried she was about to be released.

But then three fingers were back inside her, fucking her furiously and with no preamble. Emma gasped as her hips banged against the edge of the counter, bruises blossoming there to match the one on her back.

"You did so well," Regina said from behind her, causing yet another wave of heat to sink over her. "Thank you for trusting me."

"I—" Emma gasped, then let out a loud moan that seemed to roll across the countertop. "You're not going to get her in trouble, are you?"

Regina surprised her by pulling her fingers free and slapping her sharply across the ass once more. "Don't ask such ridiculous questions. I won't do a thing to hurt her."

Then her fingers were back inside – possibly four of them, judging by how stretched and greedy Emma's swollen pussy felt – and Emma couldn't think of Ashley for another second. When she came that time, Regina was gently encouraging her, whispering proud words in her ear even as she fucked her hard enough to make her legs shake.

As she recovered, Regina turned her and leaned her back against the counter that was now warm and slightly sweaty. She stroked her back over and over as Emma buried her face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the smell of her and waiting for her pulse to slow.

She felt such a surge of love for her then that she thought maybe all the other stuff they were dealing with didn't matter after all. As long as they were side by side, their fingers woven together and their mind on the same thing, they'd be alright.

She sighed into the dip of Regina's throat. "What are you planning to do?"

For a moment, Regina didn't respond. She thought maybe she wasn't going to answer.

But then she pulled back, lifted Emma's chin, and kissed her gently on her lips.

"I'm not sure," she said thoughtfully. Then she smiled. "But I'm going to make sure it's final."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four**

"Regina," Emma huffed into a voicemail message. She was standing on a curb, shivering slightly in the drizzly rain, wishing she'd had the foresight to go home after work instead of hanging around expecting Regina to remember she existed. "I know your head is somewhere else right now, but you told me you'd pick me up at seven for this party. It's 7:30. Call me."

The final instruction was pointless, because she knew she wouldn't.

Sure enough, 10 minutes later, Sidney's car rolled around the corner. When Emma opened the back door and found every other seat empty, she sighed. "Where is she?"

Sidney was already looking apologetic. "I don't know. I'm sorry. She just called me and told me to come and get you."

Emma clambered in and slammed the door shut. "Right."

"Do you have the address of the party?"

"Just take me home," Emma said, "Please."

Sidney nodded like he always did, then they quietly drove across town with Emma stewing in the back.

She whipped out her phone, hoping she'd find a text from Regina waiting for her but instead only finding one from Elsa. _What do you think of these dresses? I know you vetoed the lemon ones but maybe this is a compromise._

She tapped on a photo of four sherbet orange dresses and shuddered.

_They'll clash with Anna's hair._

When Elsa replied a split second later, Emma breathed a sigh of relief. _Shit. You're right. Back to the drawing board._

Tossing her cell into her purse, Emma leaned her head back and groaned. Ever since their confrontation with Gold three weeks earlier, she'd been filled with a sense of sick uneasiness – not because of his threats, nor because she knew Neal was still lurking around trying to get her attention, but because yet again Regina's mind had drifted off someplace where she wasn't invited. She was a woman on a mission, unwilling to be disturbed and suddenly incapable of picking up her phone, and although Emma was trying not to let it bug her, she couldn't help but feel the same shrinking anxiety in her stomach as she had done two years ago.

Back then, Regina had been silent because she was single-handedly talking every bank on the eastern seaboard out of sending Emma to jail – now it was because she was determined to send Gold and Neal there instead. Emma knew that and she was trying to be patient, but when she kept getting left on the sidewalk like a stray dog, she couldn't help but feel a little bit abandoned.

She pulled her phone out again and typed, _Thanks for sending Sidney. I'm going home. Come round later if you need to vent._

She went to bed alone. Regina never showed.

* * *

Emma was genuinely surprised when Regina asked her round for dinner a week later. She half expected to arrive at her apartment and find another ominous envelope lying on the counter, but instead the front door opened and there was Regina, looking tired and harried and possibly slightly hungover.

"Emma," she sighed with relief when she opened the front door. She yanked Emma into a hug before she could even say hi. "I've missed you."

Blinking, Emma asked, "You have?"

"Immeasurably. How has your week been?"

"It's been… fine. Quiet." Emma tentatively walked into the apartment and removed her shoes. "Yours?

"A nightmare from start to finish. You know who's extremely good at covering their tracks?" Regina asked, gesturing for Emma to follow her into the kitchen. "People with something to hide."

"You mean Gold?"

"Of course I mean Gold. He's got a collection of lawyers larger than a football team and it's making it very difficult for me to go digging for dirt."

Emma blinked. She wasn't expecting Regina to be quite so forthcoming after her month-long silence.

"Have you had any luck at all?"

"A little, here and there." Regina poured Emma a glass of wine and slid it across the counter toward her. "I thought it would be easier, to be honest."

"Do you need any help?"

Regina smiled. "I just need you here."

It was a sweet thing to say, but it was slightly ruined by the fact that Regina's phone buzzed a half second later, and she immediately grabbed it. Emma waited silently until she felt like it was safe to speak again.

"I still want to help," she said slowly. "I'm not really sure what's going on, and it makes me nervous when—"

"Don't be nervous," Regina interrupted, her eyes still on her phone. "Tell me about work."

"Work?"

"Yes. You had those… projects..."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Two books went to print last week."

"Oh?" Regina asked, clearly not paying attention. A second later, she realised what Emma had said. She finally looked up. "Wait. They've printed?"

"Yep."

"Why didn't you tell me? I didn't even know they were near completion."

Talking slowly, like she was speaking to someone with severe brain damage, Emma pointed out, "Because you actually need to pick up your phone in order to have a conversation with me about that."

Regina looked mildly ashamed of herself until her phone started ringing again. At the exact same time, the water on the stove started boiling over.

"Shit," she snapped, rushing over to turn it down. When Emma noticed that her shirt was untucked and there was even a smudge of what might be ink down the sleeve, she took pity on her.

"I'll get it," she said, steering her out of the way. "You deal with your crisis."

Regina sighed with gratitude before doing exactly that. Emma recognised the ingredients that were strewn across the counter and without asking, she began prepping dinner in Regina's place.

She tried not to take it too personally when Regina was on the phone for the next 20 minutes, even though she had barely replied to one of Emma's texts all weeks. _She's doing it for you_, she reminded herself as she stirred puttanesca sauce. _Stop being a baby._

But then her own phone buzzed and she found herself staring down at a picture of a faded lavender bridesmaid's dress. She groaned and went back to the sauce.

When they sat down at the table, it took Regina a few minutes to even pick up her fork. Her phone was still in her hand and her lips were moving as she read her emails to herself. Emma slumped down and picked at her own spaghetti. Regina eventually placed her phone to one side and cleared her throat, looking up with a smile. Emma's heart lifted, and she opened her mouth to say something.

Then there was a buzz of plastic against wood, and Regina was snatching her phone up once more.

"Regina," Emma snapped. "Just how hard would you kick my ass if I was sitting here texting at the dinner table?"

Regina dropped her phone with a clatter. "What?"

"I haven't seen you in weeks. Can you be present just for one meal?"

"I'm not being present?"

"No. Look, I know you're busy and I know you're doing all this for my benefit, but I'd still like to be able to talk to my girlfriend after a crappy day. I miss you, you know."

It broke her heart a bit that Regina looked confused. "You do?"

"Of course I do. I get that you're trying to do something big and amazing and noble but… selfishly, I wish you'd just text me good morning instead."

Regina's face fell. "Oh. I'm sorry. You know what I get like."

"I know. And really, I do appreciate everything you're doing. But…"

She didn't need to finish that sentence, because Regina was firmly pushing her phone away. "I get it. I'm here – I promise. Will you tell me about your week?"

Just like that, Emma felt herself perk up. She straightened her back. "Well – Elsa can't decide on a colour for her bridesmaids' dresses so she's running through the entire pastel spectrum at the moment."

Regina winced. "Pastel?"

"I talked her out of pink, yellow and orange, but for some reason she's set on making me look like frozen yoghurt as I walk down the aisle."

The phone that was sitting in the middle of the table buzzed against the wood, making her jump. Regina automatically glanced at it, but didn't pick it up.

"Is there a theme?"

"She was considering winter wonderland, because they're getting married in January."

"Maybe she'll land on icy blue, then," Regina suggested, her eyes darting back to her phone as it buzzed again. "That's slightly less offensive."

"Maybe. She was looking at purple earlier, so I guess blue is next on the list."

_Buzz. Buzz._ "Does August get a say in any of this?"

"I doubt it somehow."

"Mm." Regina's gaze flickered again. "You'd look beautiful in a nice oyster colour."

Emma smiled, but it felt strained. She could feel Regina's attention wavering. "I don't think Elsa is planning her wedding around me, though."

"Maybe not." The phone buzzed again, twitching like a pulsing vein, and Emma felt her jaw harden. When Regina's gaze lingered on it, she sighed.

"Just get it."

"What?"

"Your phone. You won't be able to concentrate until you pick it up."

Regina looked back at her, trying to gauge whether it was a trick. Emma knew there was annoyance and impatience written all over her face, but it either went unnoticed or was deemed not important enough compared with a furiously ringing phone.

When Regina grabbed it and picked it up, Emma lost her appetite entirely. After a few minutes of sitting and staring into space, she pulled her own phone out of her pocket and looked at the latest photo Elsa had sent her.

Sudden rage swelled inside her. Elsa was blazing through her wedding planning like she was playing a game of bingo, and instead of being excited by it, Emma felt sticky with jealousy. Her toes were curling under the table.

She looked up again: Regina's call had ended, but she was frantically typing out an email with her forehead furrowed. Emma coughed loudly, but she didn't even blink.

Elsa suddenly texted again: _I showed August some wedding dress options today and he said I'll look like a snow queen :) _

Just like that, Emma was certain she was about to puke fire. She slammed her phone down and demanded, "Do you even _want_ to marry me?"

She was expecting Regina to look up right away. Part of her was hoping they'd collapse into a huge fight – that, at least, was better than being ignored. But Regina kept typing, her lips slightly parted like she knew she was supposed to be saying something but her brain failing to come up with anything. Emma folded her arms and waited, her temples throbbing, until she finally glanced up.

"Hm?" she asked, even then her gaze flicking back down to her phone. "Sorry – what did you say?"

All at once, Emma deflated. Her rage left her as quickly as it had come.

"Never mind," she muttered, picking up her fork. "It doesn't matter."

* * *

Emma resigned herself to spending most of her nights alone. Elsa was attending so many wedding fairs and cake-tasting events that she rarely had time to hang out, and Emma was tired of listening to Regina's answering machine. She settled down in her own apartment with the cooking channels and cups of peppermint tea, bitterly noting that being lonely and depressed was nowhere near as fun when she didn't keep whisky in the house anymore. But then she thought back to those nights a couple of years ago – the ones where she woke up still in her jeans and with the taste of a stranger's kiss in her mouth – and she realised that this was still better. Regina loved her – she _did_. She was just bad at juggling work and her actual life, and Emma had to accept that sometimes she would still find herself coming second.

She snuggled down under her blanket and waited for the Food Network to teach her how to roast a turkey without drying it out. If Regina could get her head out of her ass by November, maybe she could dazzle her with it at Thanksgiving.

Then her phone rang. She grabbed it, hoping to see Regina's name, but instead it was a number she didn't know.

_Fuck_, her brain immediately sirened. _You owe money again. How did that happen? You've been so careful and your credit rate is slowly climbing and—_

She took a deep breath and shook her head. She knew she was okay – she kept a close eye on her spending and even had a savings account like a real adult. But it was hard to shake off all those years of dodging calls and getting panicked whenever the doorbell rang in case it was a debt collector coming to take all her possessions away. Nowadays, she could go into stores and not worry that her credit card – singular, because she finally knew that having more than one was a recipe for disaster – was about to be declined, and she could even treat herself to new clothes or books or gadgets most of the time. With Regina standing beside her, happy to buy her expensive things and resolutely ignoring Emma's protests whenever she went overboard, it was easy to survive. She was lucky, but she still had to remind herself of that as she struggled to calm her breathing. In spite of what was happening at the moment, the good times overwhelming outweighed the bad.

A few weeks earlier, Regina had been forced to go and deal with an emergency at her gallery while Henry was staying over. Emma had agreed to watch him while she was out. They stayed up late together, mostly making and then eating cookies and struggling to find somewhere to hide the leftovers so Regina wouldn't find them.

"How about the cleaning cupboard?" Henry had giggled, chocolate smeared all around his mouth. Emma grabbed him and wiped it clean with her sleeve.

"I'm not giving you cookies with a side of bleach tomorrow, moron. Besides, she'd find them immediately."

"Have you ever seen Mom clean?"

Emma thought about it. "No, actually."

"She has a cleaner who comes three times a week, plus she doesn't let anything get dirty in the first place so the Lysol is never needed. It's the safest place in the house."

Emma had rolled her eyes and sent him off to bed, promising herself she'd find a better place than that. In the end, she'd settled down on Regina's ridiculously comfy sofa and fallen asleep before she'd even managed to open a cabinet.

She woke up a few hours later to the smell of her favourite perfume and a gentle kiss against her forehead. When she cracked open one eye, Regina was bending over her, looking tired and windswept but happy to see her.

"Hey," Emma muttered, rubbing her eyes and then remembering she was still wearing make-up. "What time is it?"

"Just gone two."

"You're only getting home now?"

"The new contractor we hired to hang the paintings used some kind of ridiculous eco-nails that disintegrated as soon as gravity hit them. I had to work out how to repair and reframe six different paintings before the exhibition tomorrow."

Emma smiled. "You managed it, though."

"Of course I did," Regina said. "Come on. Let's go to bed."

With a groan, Emma forced herself upright. It took her a moment to focus her bleary eyes. When she did, she noticed something lying on the armchair behind Regina. "What's that?"

Regina didn't even turn her head. "Bedtime."

"Don't be secretive."

"Don't try and distract me from the half-eaten plate of cookies lying right in front of you."

Emma snorted and peered round Regina's body. The package on the chair was in a clothes bag and had a hanger sticking out of the top. "You managed to fit in a shopping trip in the middle of the night?"

"Don't be an idiot. I bought this a few days ago but only just remembered to bring it home."

"Is it for you to wear tomorrow?"

Regina paused, looking slightly embarrassed. "No. It's for you."

"Regina," Emma sighed. "I've told you to stop buying me things. I have my own salary for this now."

"I know, but I saw it in Bergdorf Goodman and knew it would look perfect on you. It's Prada."

That meant it was also exorbitantly expensive. Emma shook her head. "You should take it back."

"I will not. You haven't even seen it yet."

"Then show me."

"No. It's bedtime."

"Regina, I'm going to kick your ass if you don't unzip the goddamn bag."

Regina laughed at the threat. "Fine. One second."

She fiddled with the zipper for a while before producing a suit that was white and glossy and made Emma's eyes water.

"I thought you could wear it with that black shirt you got the other week in Max Mara. It would look so beautiful."

Emma lifted her gaze to find Regina looking half hopeful and half bashful, and she couldn't stop herself from wrapping her up in a hug. "It's amazing. But please stop buying me things."

"No," Regina said simply, kissing her cheek. "You can try it on tomorrow. Unless all those cookies mean it won't fit anymore, and then you'll be in big trouble."

As they walked up the stairs together, Regina asked, "Did Henry throw up from eating too much again?"

"Not this time," Emma said cheerfully. She squeezed Regina's hand. "I'll try harder in the future."

The ringing of her phone rattled through the peaceful, perfect memory, and Emma sighed, realising she was still in her own apartment and still alone. She knew that those were the moments she needed to focus on – the ones that reminded her just how lucky she really was. Sure, Regina was busy and distracted and super annoying sometimes, but she was also kind and thoughtful and the only person in the world who could make Emma's heart feel warm like that.

She shook her head and reached out for her phone.

"Hello?"

A man's voice came back at her. "Swan."

Emma blinked. "Um. Yes?"

There was some rustling followed by a throaty cough. "How are you doing?"

"Sorry, who is this?"

For a second, there was silence. Then she heard a chuckle that she'd never be able to erase from her sticky brain.

"Don't tease me, Swan Song. You know it's me."

That nickname always had the capacity to freeze Emma's entire body. She closed her eyes and tried to sound bored. "What do you want?"

"Just to chat."

"Neal, you need to stop asking me to chat. I don't want to speak to you."

"I realise that. You blocked my old number, didn't you?"

Emma sighed. "Don't tell me you got a new phone just so you could harass me. I thought you'd be too busy for that, what with how great your career's going now."

It was the wrong thing to say, apparently, because Neal suddenly hissed like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

"You've got some fucking nerve," he spat down the line at her. "You and Regina. Why can't she back off?"

Hearing her name in his mouth made her feel sick. "Leave her out of it."

"Why don't you tell her that? She's sniffing around causing trouble and she's going to regret it. Do you two seriously think you're going to win against us?"

Taking a shaky breath, Emma decided her best option was to simply end this. "Goodbye, Neal."

"Wait," he said, the word slightly slurry. "I wanted to tell you something else."

"I don't want to hear it, you fucking weirdo."

"You know I love it when you're mean to me, Swan Song. It just makes me miss you even more." Emma shuddered, nearly dropping the phone. "I wanted to tell you that you looked nice the other week. I barely got to say it before you walked off."

"When?"

"You know when. The night when you had your tits hanging out," he slurred. "Was that all for me? Were you trying to get my attention?"

Emma's entire body went cold.

"Not fucking likely."

"Stop playing hard to get. I'm home alone right now, you know. I bet you are too. What do you say you come round and we pick up where we left off? I—"

The words sent a shock through Emma's body like a fuse blowing, and she quickly hung up and blocked the number before he could call her back. Her hands were shaking. She could taste metal in her mouth.

_Fuck_. She ran her hands over her hair and tried to breathe normally. _It's okay. He was just drunk and looking for a fight. It's okay._

But the words didn't comfort her at all, and she suddenly needed to be out of that place. She couldn't sit by herself waiting for him to show up when she wasn't sure she'd be able to fight him off again.

She grabbed her coat and headed for the door, but then heard footsteps on the stairs outside. She froze.

They sauntered right past her door and continued on their way up to the top of the building – it was just one of her neighbours, Emma realised. But that didn't stop her throat from closing up, or her feet from leading her away from the door once more.

She was dialling Regina's number before she could stop to think about it. As usual, it rolled straight through to voicemail.

Emma hung up and opened her messages.

_Regina. I need to come round._

Within a few seconds, Regina was typing a response. _On the phone to Moscow. I'll send Sidney. Are you okay?_

Emma didn't reply. She sat nervously on the edge of the couch and waited for the buzzer to go downstairs. She jumped when, instead, there was a knock at her front door.

She crept over to it and squinted through the peephole. It wasn't Neal on the other side.

Sidney was waiting for her when she pulled it open. He smiled anxiously.

"Regina wanted me to come and get you from up here. I hope you don't mind – I used her spare key."

Emma could have cried and fallen into his arms, but she forced herself to shake her head instead. She locked up the apartment and followed Sidney down to the car, not saying a word as they drove across town.

Sidney escorted her up to the 19th floor and stood by her side as she waited for Regina to come to the door. Only when they heard her footsteps approaching did Emma turn to him and shakily say thank you.

He squeezed her arm. "Any time. Will you be okay?"

"I… probably. Sorry." She laughed shakily. "When was the last time you saw me and I wasn't a nervous wreck?"

He just smiled back at her. Then the front door was open, and Regina was grabbing her hand. "Emma. Are you alright?"

Emma nodded and walked inside, leaving Regina to thank Sidney and say goodnight to him. She double locked the door before she led Emma into the living room, not even scolding her for still having her shoes on.

They sat on the couch in complete silence for a moment before Regina said, "This reminds me of another day, you know."

Emma had just been thinking the same thing. Thankfully this wasn't as bad as that had been – she was shaky, but her clothes were intact and the initial panic was starting to subside. Now Regina was beside her, she was starting to feel safer.

"Yeah. Me too."

"Please don't tell me it's a similar situation."

Emma looked pleadingly at her. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I keep attracting drama wherever I go."

But Regina was looking back at her like she was ready to commit murder. "He came round?"

"No. God. He called me."

That didn't seem to lessen Regina's rage. "And? What did he want?"

After a pause, Emma tentatively recounted the conversation. Halfway through, she started to wonder if she was overreacting – it was only a phone call, after all. He wouldn't have actually done anything.

But then she saw the way Regina's cheeks had turned slightly purple and she floundered. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen her look that angry before. Ever.

"I'm going to kill him," she said. The fact that her voice was perfectly calm filled Emma with more terror than she'd known possible. "Did he call you from his studio?"

"I don't know. He didn't say."

"Did you recognise the number?"

"No. It was a new one."

"Stay here," Regina said, getting up. At once, Emma grabbed her hand and stopped her.

"Regina, for God's sake. Don't be so stupid."

"I'm not being stupid. I'm being murderous. It's different."

"Look, he was drunk and obviously pissed off about something you've been doing. I guess he's gotten wind of the fact that you're trying to dig up some dirt on Gold. You got to him, which means whatever you're doing is working. Just… please. Don't go round there."

Regina was still standing, her eyes fierce and her fists clenched. "He doesn't get to call you and terrify you and get away with it. I'm not scared of that little troll."

"I know you're not, but… I am," Emma finally admitted, hating herself for it. That, at least, took the wind out of Regina's sails. "I don't want to be, but I am, and I can't have you going near him. Please. He was just being dumb and trying to get to me and I shouldn't have gotten so worked up about it, but he still does something to me that I don't like. I just… needed you."

Regina sat back down, her face softening. "I'm right here, Em. I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know. I couldn't sit by myself waiting for him to show up when I know you're here and you'll look out for me."

"Always," Regina said fiercely. She suddenly reached forward and tugged Emma into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry I didn't pick up the phone. I was busy and I… I'm sorry."

Emma laughed faintly into her shoulder. "Remember the days when you refused to apologise to me?"

"Shut up. I'm being tender."

It was such a dumb thing to say that it made Emma feel inexplicably better. She sank into the hug and buried her face in Regina's neck, breathing in the smell of her and wondering for the 50th time that week when she'd finally be able to come home to that scent every day.

Maybe Regina felt her tense up, because her next question was an unexpected one. "Is this why you've been on edge recently?"

Emma pulled back at once. "What?"

"I'm not an idiot. You're been sulking for about a month," Regina said, brushing Emma's hair back from her face.

"I have not."

"Yes, you have."

"Okay, fine – but I'm surprised you've noticed, since your nose has been buried in your phone that entire time."

Regina slowly raised her eyebrows. "Emma. I've been busy, I grant you, and I'm aware I've been too distracted to be a half-decent girlfriend recently. But I also know that something's been bothering you for weeks – way before I suddenly started taking calls at the dinner table. What I don't understand is why you haven't talked to me about it."

It always sounded so simple when Regina said it, but the reality was anything but.

"I've _tried_!" Emma protested. "Regina, for Christ's sake – don't you realise how hard it can be to talk to you?"

Regina blinked. "What? Why?"

"Because you're so busy and important and I feel like I'm always bugging you and you're going to get mad at me. I _want _to have this conversation, but you always brush it off or act like I'm being annoying and in the end it's easier to just pretend nothing's wrong and hope eventually you'll bring it up instead."

Regina looked so disappointed.

"Bring what up?"

"You really have no idea?"

"I can't say I do. I need you to tell me."

Emma sighed and slumped back against the couch. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because it's scary and I don't want to."

"Well, that may be the case, but if the other option is stewing on the other side of town and quietly resenting me, then I'm afraid I'm going to have to bully it out of you."

She was trying to be sweet, but Emma was on edge and she was tired and she was scared. Regina was right – this had been eating at her for months and the bottom line was it had absolutely nothing to do with Neal or Gold or their crazy, chaotic art life. It was just about them – Emma and Regina and absolutely no one else – and it was fucking terrifying to try and discuss that with someone who had walls built so high around herself that Emma still wasn't entirely sure she'd seen over the top of them yet.

"Don't make jokes," she snapped, rubbing her eyes. "This is serious. We need to talk and I've been scared to bring it up for months. What does that tell you?"

Regina's smile slipped. "You've been frightened to talk to me?"

"Well… not frightened. But you still make me nervous sometimes and what if I say something you don't like and you pull away like last time? I'm not sure I can go through that again, Regina. I know you keep saying that's not going to happen but it can be so hard to believe that. I'm also not sure you have the same future in mind that I do, and that really terrifies me."

She'd finally spat it out, but it didn't make her feel any better. Instead, she was forced to watch as Regina's face collapsed. "What do you mean?"

For the first time in months, she was listening. Emma had her completely undivided attention – her phone wasn't even in the same room as them, it seemed – and her beautiful brown eyes were wide and waiting for her to speak. This was the opportunity she'd been waiting for all year, and yet she still felt like she wasn't brave enough to get the words out.

Regina saw the hesitation on her face and she reached out for her hand. "Emma. You are, without a doubt, the worst communicator I've ever met. If you've been sitting on something for months then I'm really sorry about that, but it's also not my fault that you haven't told me what it is. You can't keep bottling things up and then get mad at me for not knowing about them."

Annoyingly, she was right. Emma rolled her eyes and squeezed her hand back.

"Fine," she said. She straightened up and met her dead in the eye. "Regina."

"Yes?"

"Here's the thing."

"Okay."

"I…" Emma swallowed. "I want to marry you one day."

Regina blinked. Instead of looking shocked or appalled, she just looked confused. "I... Okay?"

"I want you to tell me how you feel about that."

Another bewildered blink. "I mean… Yes. I'd like that too."

Relief hit Emma like a baseball in the centre of her chest. "You would?"

"Of course I would. What on Earth are you talking about?"

"Regina," Emma spluttered, wanting to reach out and throttle her. "Why didn't you _say_ anything?"

"Why didn't _you_?"

"Because you keep acting like you're happy exactly as we are! You hardly ever stay round mine and I barely come to yours anymore, and we've been together for two years but I'm still not living with you. Whenever I hint, you ignore me. Once I even asked outright and you looked at me like I was a total idiot."

Regina was looking at her in exactly that way right then. "Do you mean the time when you blurted out in the car, 'You know, I'd be happy selling my apartment if you wanted me to'?"

"Um… Yes."

"Emma, that is not asking outright. That's barely a hint. You keep spewing total nonsense because it's been filling you up for weeks until you can't hold it in anymore, and then you get upset when I don't totally understand you."

"Well, what did you think I meant?" Emma asked, her cheeks burning.

"Honestly? I thought you were trying to subtly tell me that you didn't like the apartment I bought you and were thinking of finding somewhere new."

Emma opened her mouth, then closed it again. "Oh."

"Miss Swan, I could strangle you sometimes," Regina sighed. "Why is it so impossible for you to just be honest with me? I thought we'd been working on this?"

"Because you…" Emma started, feeling her cheeks burn even darker. "You always seem like you're too busy for me. If I want to have a serious conversation then I have to schedule it in. And… I don't know, Regina. Sometimes I feel like life is perfect and I've got everything I've always wanted, but other times I feel like nothing's changed. You still use me to do your dirty work, and I don't like that. I don't mind helping you out with gallery openings and networking and stuff, but when it comes to finding out other people's secrets and snitching on them to you, it just makes me feel like you still don't think of me as anything more than your paid companion."

She thought she heard Regina's heart break right then.

"How can you possibly think that? I thought I… I've been so clear about how much I love you. I'll do _anything_ for you."

"I know that. I do. But we still haven't addressed the fact that we've been together for two years and yet not once have you mentioned me moving back in. And then Elsa and August got engaged when they've been together for so much less time than us and I…" Emma sighed loudly. "It just got to me. I'm so happy for them, but it just reminds me that we're not there yet and that makes me really sad."

When Regina reached for her hand, Emma clung on tight.

"Emma," she said in her slowest, most careful voice. It was the one that meant Emma had to pay attention, because she was about to say something that could change everything. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes."

"Good. Look," Regina squeezed her hand tighter. "When was the last time I asked you to come to an event? I mean, really, really asked you to be there."

Emma wrinkled her nose. "Not in a long time. Normally you just tell me where you'll be and say Sidney will collect me if I want to come."

"Exactly," Regina said. She stopped there, which made Emma realise there was something she obviously wasn't getting. "Okay – and when was the last time I nudged you into talking to some rich old man to try and get some of his money?"

Emma shuddered. "Thankfully not for ages. I always hated that."

She was completely missing the point – it was obvious in the way Regina was watching her.

"Emma, ever since we… broke up," she said tentatively, "I've been trying so hard not to be that person anymore. I don't want to boss you around or make you uncomfortable or force you into things you don't want to do. I know I asked for your help with Ashley and I know you didn't like it, but I thought you realised that I _needed_ you for that. It was something only you could do, and if you did it, then we'd both be able to fix this thing together."

Emma swallowed. "I do know that. It's why I agreed. It just… tastes bad sometimes."

"And I get that. Really. It wasn't an ideal situation by any means but sometimes unsavoury things have to be done. Do you understand me?"

Emma nodded. "Yeah, I guess. And I do know that if I'd said no, you would have backed off. You wouldn't have forced me."

She couldn't help but notice how relieved Regina looked. She sighed, then continued. "And as for me not mentioning you moving in again, there's a very good reason for that."

Emma waited expectantly. Her heart was beating so fast it felt like a murmur.

"When we got back together last year, we promised each other we'd be more sensible this time," Regina said slowly. "We agreed to live apart so we could find our feet again. That was a smart decision, because it meant we could work out who we were as individual people as well as as an actual couple. I think we both needed it."

"I know. I agree. But—"

"I've wanted you to move back in since that day," Regina interrupted. "I would have asked you right away, but it was too fast. Six months passed and we both seemed more comfortable and more confident, but that's still a short amount of time, Emma. Most people don't move in together that quickly."

Emma laughed awkwardly. "You obviously don't know many lesbians."

"I can't say I do," Regina replied, reaching out to touch her cheek longingly. "I was waiting because I promised you a while ago that I wanted to do right by you this time. I didn't want to bully you back into my bed. You deserve your own freedom and your own space, and I wasn't going to make you give that up until _you_ wanted to. The second you'd asked me, I would have said yes."

Emma's eyes were burning. She quickly scrubbed a fist over one of them. "But I've _tried_. At that event where Neal first came back, I said I wanted to live with you again."

"No, you didn't," Regina said softly. "You said that it's probably a good thing we don't live together because otherwise I'd turn you into an art snob. How the hell was I supposed to decipher that? If you were being serious and actually saying that you were still glad for your own space, how much of a sociopath would I have looked if I'd immediately told you to give it up and move in with me?"

All Emma could do was blink at her. Sometimes she spewed words out without properly thinking about them, but she always expected Regina to just understand them. She was beginning to realise that Regina used her brain with a lot more readiness than she did, and while that was probably a good thing in the long term, it also meant Emma had to stop being such a baby and just say what she meant sometimes.

Regina read all of that in her expression and laughed. "I love you, but you are quite useless."

"I am not," Emma bristled. "I'm just not very good at this. You mean more to me than anyone has ever done and I'm always scared I'm going to lose you. It was easier to hint about stuff and hope you took the lead than it was to just say stuff outright and get my heart broken again."

"I realise that. But I wish _you'd_ realise that I've been holding onto your heart as carefully as I possibly can for a long time now. I'm not going to let anything happen to it again."

They were the softest, sweetest words Emma had ever heard, and before she could stop herself she was tumbling forward and kissing Regina hard on her lips. Regina was ready for her: she opened her arms and gathered Emma up into them, letting her lead the kiss until she was ready to stop, just like she'd been gently letting her lead everything else.

Emma eventually pulled away and cupped Regina's cheeks. "I'm going to be totally, brutally honest."

"Okay. Go ahead."

"One day," she said firmly, "I'm going to marry you. It might be next year, or it might be in 10. But it's going to happen, and I'm going to make you so happy."

Regina beamed back at her, her eyes glimmering. "I don't doubt that for a second."

"And I'd like us to talk about moving back in together," Emma said, her heart catching. "Maybe not right this second, because things are still busy and messy and we're both so monumentally fucked up that maybe we can only focus on one big thing at a time. But when this whole Gold and Neal thing is dealt with – which I know it will be eventually, because you're like a dog with a bone and you won't give up on it until you've totally ruined them. Maybe then we can have dinner, and we can talk about what happens next."

It was a scary thing to say, but she finally knew she didn't need to be worried. Regina had a tear brimming beneath her eyelashes, and Emma was beautifully relieved to realise that it was her job to brush it away.

"I'd like that," Regina said. "I'm still not going to push you, in case you change your mind. But—"

"I'm not going to change my mind," Emma said firmly. "My heart belongs here. It always has."

Regina's smile lit up the room. She reached out for Emma's chin and pulled it toward her, kissing her softly and slowly until Emma was bundled in her lap and clinging onto her shoulders like her whole world was there in front of her. Emma felt Regina's fingertips trace the length of her spine, gently kneading at the knots in her shoulders before gliding down to the two dents in the small of her back. Emma whined and wriggled, her pulse suddenly throbbing, and just like that she felt too far away. There were clothes between them and it was unbearable.

She grabbed the front of Regina's shirt and began to unbutton it. Right away, Regina chuckled.

"Not here," she murmured against her ear, her voice low and smoky. "Upstairs, princess."

Emma melted against her, groaning into her hair. Regina laughed again and nudged her backward. "Up."

Feeling drunk with relief and with the need to climb onto Regina's fingers and ride them until the sun rose, Emma followed her up the stairs and into the bedroom. Regina reached the bed first and turned around expectantly, but Emma was already there, colliding with her and kissing her hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs.

Regina gasped, winding her arms around Emma's waist and digging her nails into her back until they were both tumbling onto the mattress. Emma could feel Regina trying to manoeuvre herself back on top, but for once Emma was more determined to be the one calling the shots – she pinned Regina down and kissed her hard, unbuttoning her shirt with greedy hands, and pulled her bra down until her breasts were exposed and she could drag her tongue across them. Regina gasped, bucking up slightly, with her fingers still digging into Emma's waist.

Maybe it was relief or maybe it was just pure, white-hot love, but Emma could feel the need to make her come building up inside her, faster and harder, to such an extent that she couldn't even feel her own neediness anymore. All she could feel was Regina beneath her, breathless and excited and so happy to be there with her. It was the most magical feeling in the world.

It didn't take long to remove all of Regina's clothes. Emma stayed as she was, even down to the boots that were never normally allowed upstairs, as she peeled layer upon layer off the woman lying beneath her. Once she was totally naked, Emma's lips sought out the furiously beating skin beneath her ear and kissed it, nibbled at it, letting her tongue circle until Regina's breath had all but vanished and her spine was no longer touching the bed.

And then Emma crawled down, kissing and sucking at every inch of skin and leaving a line of faint bruises from her sternum down to her hips. Regina gasped and whined as each one formed, her body torn between desire and the slight pang of pain as she gripped Emma's hair and wordlessly pleaded with her to go on. When Emma was kneeling on the floor, Regina's bare cunt glistening right in front of her eyes, a tear sprung up in her eye.

Regina felt her pause and lifted her head. She looked concerned.

"Emma? Are you okay?"

Emma scrubbed at her fizzing nose and nodded. "God, yeah. I just love you."

Before she could be questioned on that, she dove forward and captured Regina's soaked pussy with her mouth. The fingers in her hair tightened at once.

"Emma," Regina groaned, lifting her hips. "Fuck. This isn't going to take long."

Emma was fine with that, because once she'd made her come, she was going to do it again and again and again until she was loose and floppy and unable to speak. She was going to corkscrew her fingers inside her and coax out orgasm after orgasm, laughing at her as she begged and pleaded for less and then more. She was going to be slow and tender, kissing her clit before gently stroking it with her tongue, and then she was going to be as rough and punishing as her aching arms would allow.

She couldn't count how long it went on for. Hours. Regina had had four orgasms before she started gasping, "Emma, for God's sake, please. It's your turn." Emma ignored her and flipped her over, letting the fact that she suddenly felt happier than she'd ever been in her life carry her through her exhaustion. When Regina was moaning into the crumpled sheets and sticking her ass high up in the air, she grinned and felt a new wave of energy surge through her. They both passed out before Emma could get her own turn. She didn't care.

She woke up tangled in Regina's limbs, her hair a knotted mess and her body still slightly sticky from sweat. It wasn't time to get up yet, and the second she shifted position, Regina whined in her sleep and shuffled closer. Her arm snaked around Emma's waist and her face buried into her neck, and then she was fast asleep once more.

Emma watched her, her heart warm, and nuzzled closer. With the weight of Regina clinging to her, she was asleep before her eyes had fully closed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter five**

Emma pursed her lips. The message chain in front of her was much bluer than she would have liked, and she wasn't sure whether sending another text would be overkill or the thing that would finally make a typing bubble pop up.

For once, it wasn't Regina she was waiting on. It was Ashley.

They hadn't spoken that much over the past few weeks, but all of a sudden she seemed to have fallen off the grid entirely. Her read receipts also seemed to have been switched off, and the gaps between her replies were getting longer.

Emma frowned and scrolled up to the last message she'd received from her. _Thanks for putting me in touch with Regina _–_ I'll email her if I have any questions. This whole thing is getting a bit overwhelming._ After that, days of silence.

Glancing up to make sure Ingrid wasn't about to storm over to her desk and threaten to demote her to the mail room, she dialled Ashley's number and waited for her to pick up. She knew she wasn't going to get an answer long before she reached her voicemail message.

That evening, Emma found herself helping Henry with his math homework while Regina busied herself making dinner. As soon as there was a lull in the short division, she asked, "Hey, Regina?"

"Mm?"

"Have you heard from Ashley recently?"

Regina looked round from the stove. "Should I have?"

"Who's Ashley?" Henry interrupted.

"Stop looking for an excuse not to do your homework," Emma replied, placing her hand on the top of his head and swivelling it back in the direction it should be facing. He giggled and went back to his work. "She's not replying to my texts. I'm just a bit worried about her."

There was a long pause. Regina turned back to the stove and continued stirring.

"I'm sure she's fine," she said eventually.

"Do you know something?"

"Why would I know something?"

"She knows something," Henry chimed in, not looking up. "She's deflecting."

"How do you even know what that means?" Regina asked.

"You send me to private school."

"Last week you asked me if Arendelle is a real country."

"Regina," Emma snapped. "Can you focus on me for a second, please?"

With a sigh, Regina turned the flame down and walked over to the table where her girlfriend and son were sitting.

"I'm still making enquiries about Gold," she said slowly. "And trying to sift through an awful lot of information. A lot is happening and I'm not sure whether Gold is aware of it or not – but I imagine he must be, since Neal was so irate about it."

"If Gold knows, that won't be good for Ashley."

"I know. But I haven't heard anything specifically about her, I promise."

Emma nodded. "Okay. I'm just… worried. If something happens to Gold then he won't hesitate in taking her down with him. I want to make sure she's okay – she might be a bit dumb, but that doesn't mean her career should get ruined just as it's beginning."

Henry was watching them curiously, which meant it was impossible to discuss any of the real details. Emma wasn't sure it mattered, though: Regina was watching her thoughtfully, her arms folded and her nose slightly wrinkled.

Eventually she leaned forward and kissed Emma's cheek. "I'll look into it. Alright?"

"Okay," Emma replied. When she turned her head, Henry was staring at her. "What?"

"I want to know who Ashley is."

"It's just someone your mom works with. It's not exciting."

"Oh. Okay," Henry said, looking down again. After a beat, he asked, "Is she pretty?"

"I mean… I guess. Why?"

"You're not going to date her instead of Mom?"

"What? Kid, just because I like girls doesn't mean I like _all_ girls. I know your mom's a pain in the ass but I'm planning to stick around even so."

From across the room, Regina snorted. Henry, though, smiled.

"Good," he said, going back to his homework. "We like having you here. Even if you're worse at math than I am."

* * *

Ever since Emma had dragged Ashley out of an exhibition by her elbow six weeks earlier, Regina had decided it was probably safer for her to not show up to any for a while. Emma knew that wasn't the full reason – after Neal's angry phone call, Regina was adamant that she was going to keep her safe from him. Emma appreciated it. But, after two weeks had passed without Emma attending a single event, she was surprised and slightly annoyed to realise that she missed them. Regina was still disappearing to gallery openings and cocktail parties a few times a week, and Emma, sitting at home by herself waiting for her microwave dinner to be ready, was beginning to feel left out.

"Hello?"

"Hey," Emma said, slotting her phone against her shoulder. "Did you say you had some gala on Friday?"

There was a beat of silence before Regina replied, "Yes. Why?"

"I was thinking I might come along?" she said slowly. It was the first time she'd ever had to ask. "I have that new Alexander McQueen dress to wear and I miss hanging out with you and laughing at all the other snobs together."

She could feel Regina smiling even as she awkwardly paused.

"If you don't think that dress is okay then that's fine," Emma continued after a moment. "I can find something else."

Another silence.

"Emma," Regina said eventually. "I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to come along."

"What? Why?"

"Things are just… a bit complicated at the moment. I don't want you getting caught up in the middle of it."

Emma couldn't believe the crushing disappointment that came over her. "Did I embarrass myself that badly last time?"

"No, darling. Besides, I let you come back after the night when you knocked a whole tray of shrimp cocktail out of a waiter's hand – you taking Ashley for a drink certainly wouldn't be the tipping point."

"I guess," Emma frowned. "But I don't get why I'm being barred. Is it because of Gold?"

"Of course it's because of Gold. He's furious with me and I don't want him cornering you and making your life difficult. Besides, Neal will be there and that's not an encounter I want to put you through."

"I'm not going to hide because of him."

"I know you're not, but while all of this is still going on, I'd like to keep you safe. Please, just… stay at home."

Emma's face fell. "I'm never allowed to go to an event with you again?"

"Of course not. Things will change. I…" Regina paused, deciding whether this was a smart thing to admit, before she said, "I feel like I might be on the cusp of something."

"Really?"

"Maybe. It's hard to say. Things move slowly and then happen all at once. But I'm hopeful, and that's a start."

Pushing aside her disappointment, Emma forced some chirpiness back into her voice. "You're going to kick his ass, aren't you?"

"Darling, I'm far too civilised to beat up a cripple," Regina said smoothly. "But I do plan to ruin his life, yes."

Emma laughed. "I love you, you sociopath."

"I love you too. Are you free this weekend?"

"I always am."

"Good. I'll ask Tamara to book us somewhere nice for dinner."

When they hung up, Emma was torn between feeling hopeful and feeling like she was being pushed further and further away from the life that she'd accidentally come to love. What had once been a chore had somehow become something she enjoyed, and now the glitz and pomp and glamour of a world where everyone had a paintbrush in one hand and a stack of dollars in the other was something she actually missed. Walking into a room with Regina on her arm was the most exciting part of her week. If she wasn't welcome there, Emma couldn't help but wonder if she'd be welcome anywhere anymore.

* * *

On Friday night, as Regina went to the fancy gala on the other side of town, Emma went to bed early and laid staring up at the ceiling. She couldn't help but feel a little uneasy – she still hadn't heard from Ashley, which wouldn't be altogether that worrying if Regina hadn't been so adamant that things were about to move. Emma had been trying to help, but if by finally giving Gold what he deserved they ended up destroying Ashley's life in the process, it wouldn't be worth it. Whatever Neal had done to Emma – and what Gold had done by willingly scooping him up like an abandoned puppy – it wasn't worth hurting someone else in the process.

She fell asleep eventually, but her dreams were scrabbled and infuriating. When she jolted awake at 2am, her first thought was that it was because even her subconscious was fed up with her worrying.

But then she heard it. Footsteps.

They were out in the stairwell, but they'd come to a standstill outside her front door. Emma waited, wishing she'd triple checked that the door was locked before she went to bed. There was a long pause, and eventually she managed to convince herself that it was her next-door neighbour struggling to find his keys after a night out. But then another noise came: her front door squeaking open.

She bolted upright in bed. Her bedroom door was closed, but even through it she could hear the soft footsteps padding into her living room. Icy cold sweat suddenly sprung up along Emma's forehead and shoulders, and she threw her legs over the side of the bed. As the footsteps continued across her apartment, she spun round, looking for something – anything – she could use as a weapon.

Eventually she grabbed the bedside lamp. It was from IKEA and not particularly heavy, but she suspected even her shaking hands could deliver a pretty good blow to the side of his head if she managed to spring on him as he opened the door.

It was Neal. She was certain of it. The footsteps were light, but he was obviously trying not to wake her. She briefly imagined what would have happened if she hadn't woken up, but then shook the thought from her head. That didn't matter – what mattered was fucking killing him before he could get to her first.

The footsteps reached her bedroom door. There was a pause.

As soon as the door started edging open, Emma lifted the lamp above her head. The figure in the doorway stuck its head through the gap and looked toward the empty bed.

In the moment of confusion, Emma stepped forward. The second she realised who was actually waiting in her doorway, she screamed.

"Regina!" she blurted out, dropping the lamp with a clatter. "What the fuck?!"

Regina hurriedly reached out for the light switch and flicked it on. "What do you mean, 'what the fuck?' Why were you about to beat me over the head with a piece of IKEA homeware?"

"Because it's two o'clock in the fucking morning and you broke into my apartment."

"You gave me a key, you imbecile!"

"To use during daylight hours! When I've invited you round!" Emma collapsed back onto the bed and pressed her hands against her face. "Fuck. I thought I was about to die."

"And you chose a lamp as your method of self-defence?"

Emma spread her fingers and glared up at her. Only then did she notice that Regina was wearing a floor-length ballgown. In spite of the panic on her face, her cheeks were flushed with something that looked like excitement.

"Regina," Emma said, taking a few deep breaths to slow her heartbeat down. "What the hell are you doing here?"

To her immense surprise, Regina grinned. Emma was tempted to grab the lamp again.

"Why are you smiling?" she asked. "What's going on?"

Regina's beaming expression brightened. "I did it."

"Did what?"

"I did it," Regina repeated, kicking the door shut behind her and approaching the bed. Ignoring the fact that her dress probably cost upwards of $5,000, she climbed onto the mattress and tucked her legs beneath her.

"Regina, it's 2am. I'm tired and my pulse is currently at 160. Can you just tell me what's going on?"

She suddenly found herself with her face resting in Regina's hands. She frowned, wondering whether she should pull away.

"I did it," Regina repeated for the third time. "Gold. He's done."

The penny finally dropped. "What? How?"

"Oh, Emma, it was _marvellous_," Regina said, still grinning. Her hair was slightly wild and her mascara was smudged under one eye. "My lawyers have been investigating for weeks, but people like Gold are always adept at covering their tracks, so we were struggling to come up with anything. Two weeks ago, I was close to giving up."

"Right," Emma said. Regina let go of her face and shuffled back until she was leaning against Emma's crumpled pillows. "So, what happened?"

"You gave me an idea. Like you often do."

"I did?"

"You asked about Ashley," she clarified. "I hadn't heard from her, but you were worried and I decided to reach out to see if I could help with anything. And no," she added before Emma could interrupt, "I wasn't being sneaky. I promise. I was trying to be useful."

Emma wasn't entirely sure she believed her, but she nodded anyway. "Okay. And did she respond?"

"She did. It took a few days – I think she was nervous – but eventually she emailed me and said she'd find it very helpful if I could give her some advice based on the contract she'd signed."

The mischievous glimmer in Regina's eye made Emma laugh. "So she sent you her contract?"

"She did."

"And you had proof of what he's being doing?"

"Well, not at first. The contract confirmed everything we already knew, but that wasn't enough to actually get him in trouble," Regina said. "He was playing dirty, but none of it was strictly illegal."

"Okay. So… why are you so pleased with yourself, then?"

"I called her," Regina continued. "And I told her about my concerns. I'd asked my lawyer to look over the contract, and he spoke to her too. We said we might be able to help her out of it if she was having doubts, but we would need more information. It was entirely up to her."

Emma let out a long, relieved sigh. "She decided to trust you."

"She did."

"What did she send you?"

"Everything. All the emails they'd exchanged, the amendments she'd suggested and he'd scrapped – and, mostly importantly, contacts."

"Contacts?"

Regina was positively beaming by this point. "Once she realised how bad things actually were, she asked me out for coffee. I asked why we were talking face to face, and she said it was because she was almost certain Gold had access to her emails."

"What? How?"

"He's a sneaky little imp, Miss Swan. I can't say I was surprised."

Emma shuffled closer and crossed her legs, her earlier exhaustion suddenly gone. "Then what happened?"

"We met up, and she told me that some of her other friends had been approached by Gold too. Ashley was the only one who actually signed with him, and she only recently found out why."

Emma didn't ask for more information, because Regina was already whipping out her phone and reading aloud her favourite section from an email. "'Ms Lucas, it's Mr Gold again. It seems you have decided not to take me up on my most generous offer to represent you – something you will soon realise is a mistake. I'll give you 12 more hours to reconsider, otherwise you might find it surprisingly difficult to ever find a career in art again. I look forward to hearing from you.'"

Blinking, Emma asked, "What the hell is that?"

"That, my dear," Regina replied coolly, "is extortion."

There was a long pause. Emma thought her head might be exploding.

"So you've got written proof of him extorting people?"

"It seems like it. There was also a delightful amount of blackmail to be found elsewhere. It's a shame, isn't it?" Regina asked, tilting her head back against the bed frame. "That this accidentally ended up in the hands of the authorities."

Emma couldn't help herself: she burst out laughing.

"Regina," she spluttered, crawling forward and kissing Regina's hot cheek. "You are the sneakiest little shit I've ever met."

"I realise that. But I still fight clean," Regina said cheerfully. "Gold doesn't. That's the difference."

"So what happens now?"

"Well – for the past few days, I haven't been certain. My lawyers were the ones speaking with the authorities and they couldn't tell me anything while it was being investigated. But then at the event tonight, the most _unfortunate_ thing happened."

She flicked through her phone again, barely containing her laughter. When she revealed the screen, Emma shrieked.

There was Gold, being led out of the gala with a policeman on either side of him. In the background were dozens of gossiping faces – and among them was Neal, scowling and already trying to slip away.

"He's been arrested?" Emma asked breathlessly.

"Not yet. He's being questioned. But my lawyer called me a few moments after this to inform me that he won't be allowed to do business in the meantime, and if he is charged, it's likely that most of his contracts will be deemed invalid. All his artists will be cut off."

Emma paused, unsure what to make of that. On the one hand, it was a good thing – no one would be trapped by his ridiculous terms and conditions anymore, plus Neal would finally be screwed. No one else would dare work with him – not after what happened with Regina and Emma, and certainly not after being tarnished by Gold's own sticky brush.

But on the other hand, that left a lot of young artists suddenly unemployed. The art world was cutthroat, and just because Emma knew Gold was no good didn't mean his artists would be happy to see him behind bars as well.

Regina saw the indecision on her face and, for one last time, went in search of something in her emails. She handed the phone to Emma without a word.

She found herself faced with a draft email, addressed to Regina's legal team.

_Good evening all,_

_Thank you again for your exceptional work on the Gold issue. Over the next few weeks I'll be working to ensure you're all suitably compensated for your efforts._

_Regarding the possibility of Gold's employment contracts being terminated, I'd like to discuss the logistics of me offering my own services to each of those affected. It would be entirely optional and with significantly reduced terms _–_ perhaps a month's exhibition each, with Rocinante Holdings taking 20 percent commission. While I admit I wouldn't sign most of these artists voluntarily, I'd like to extend the gesture of goodwill to help them during this process. _

_I imagine only a handful will accept the offer, but if you were able to draw up a draft contract to this effect for each of them, that would be great._

Emma's heart fluttered. When she looked up, Regina was looking particularly pleased with herself.

"You see what you've done to me?" Regina asked, not sounding the slightest bit annoyed. "I've gone from vindictive, money-driven demon to a vaguely considerate human being. It's a disaster."

"But…" Emma swallowed. "Will this even be profitable for you? These artists might not be any good."

Regina shrugged. "That's entirely possible. But I have plenty of money, and it's my fault these people will soon be out of work. If I can assist them for a few months and help stir up some name recognition, they'll be fine. The first step is the most important one, after all."

She already knew the answer to her next question, but Emma had to be sure. "And… Neal?"

"He can rot in hell," Regina said. "I'll take on anyone who needs my help, except him. I promised I'd ruin his career for what he did to you and that's exactly what I've done. I can finally relax now."

"Relax," Emma repeated, laughing. She shuffled closer and lay down on the pillow beside Regina. "That'll never happen."

"No – probably not."

Regina slid down to join her, her expensive dress be damned, and draped an arm over Emma's waist. For a moment they lay in silence, the room brightly lit like a single candle against the pitch-black night. Then Emma quietly asked, "Did you do all of this for me?"

Regina answered honestly, like she always did. "Most of it. What he's been doing has always been wrong, and maybe I should have stepped in earlier. But us rich folk are notoriously bad at acknowledging the problems going on around us when they aren't affecting our own wallets."

Emma chuckled. "True. You are a disgusting snob."

"Shut up."

"But seriously – I can't believe you went to all this trouble. Putting Gold's shady dealings aside, most people would have just been mad at Neal forever but left it at that. Only you would put your entire life on hold to make sure he couldn't do it again."

Regina pulled her closer. Emma couldn't help but noticed that the heart beating against her shoulder was steady and calm.

"Only for you," she said softly. "Everything I do is for you."

Emma's nose went sharp, and she scrunched it up against her pillow to make it go away. "Can you stay here tonight?"

"Of course. I'd like that."

She didn't move to change out of her dress, nor did either of them get up to turn off the light. They lay in the brightness, Regina's silk brushing against Emma's bare skin, until things felt quiet and safe again.

It was only interrupted when Emma quietly said, "Thank you, Regina."

She felt Regina smile into her shoulder. "Any time. Always."

* * *

Emma vaguely remembered missing the hustle and bustle of Regina's art world. Two months later, she was regretting it.

"Regina," she said, pressing her fingertips into her temples to suppress the pounding. "Please slow down."

"But this is _impossible_," Regina groaned, slapping a bunch of papers down onto the kitchen table. "Look at that guest list."

"We've dealt with longer."

"When?!"

"All the time. Regina, you need to calm down. You always get like this and it's always fine."

"Emma's right," Tamara said from the other side of the table. "Remember the first party you threw together? You were adamant it was all going to be a disaster, and then—"

"Yes, fine, thank you," Regina snapped, cutting her off. Tamara smirked, not taking offence. "This is different."

"Not really," Emma said, sifting through the papers. "I know you weren't expecting quite as many of Gold's artists to accept your offer, but this is a good thing. And getting them all together for a proper party will be great."

"I hate parties."

"That's a big fat lie. Look, I've even put scallops on the menu."

That immediately made Regina's face light up. "You have?"

"Of course. No grungy warehouses or metal staircases this time."

Regina sighed reluctantly. "One day, I will learn to trust you with these things."

"But not today," Emma said cheerfully. "And that's fine. Tamara, you can probably head off – I'll take care of the rest of this, and we can see each other for the final venue check on Tuesday."

Tamara immediately began gathering up her papers. "Regina, don't forget the trial starts next week too."

"How could I forget? It's been on my calendar for weeks."

Regina sounded gleeful, but she was also exhausted. The past few weeks had been hard on her – although Gold being officially charged had been the best news she'd received all year, the stress of signing on 20 new artists had been unexpected. It was made worse by the fact that all of them – particularly Ashley – were so determined not to be taken advantage of again that they had spent weeks arguing over every single point of their new contracts before they'd agreed to sign them.

Once Tamara had left, Regina collapsed into the chair opposite Emma and groaned. "I'm never taking on young artists again."

"Right. Because I'm sure the Old Masters were so much easier to work with."

Regina smiled weakly and looked down at the guest list once more. "I'm dreading this."

"You always dread these things. And they're always great."

"Not always. There was that time where only half the guest list showed up and we were done by 11."

"True, but it was supposed to be a tame one. You ended up signing Marco that night."

"Oh. That's right," Regina said, brightening up. "Maybe I should finally start listening to you."

"It'll be a cold day in hell when that happens," Emma muttered. Regina got up with a laugh and kissed the top of her head before she walked over to the coffee machine. She was just adding the water when there was a knock at the door.

"Tamara must have forgotten something," she sighed, heading for the door. Emma stayed where she was at the table, scanning the list in case she'd missed someone. For a moment, the apartment was quiet.

Then she heard from out in the hallway, "What in the _hell_ are you doing here?"

Emma jerked in her seat, her head snapping up. Regina's voice was cold and unforgiving, and that meant it could only be one person waiting for her at the door.

She rushed into the hallway with her lungs knotting together. Regina didn't turn around when she heard her approaching, but Neal looked up at once.

"Emma," he drawled, stumbling to one side. He was still on the other side of the door and Regina's arm was blocking him from entering, but Emma knew that wouldn't be enough if he decided to shove his way forward. Regina might be terrifying, but she was still half his size.

Emma could feel her stomach shrivelling in on itself, but ahead of her, Regina just signed impatiently. "How did you even get in the building?"

"What? You don't think I fit in here?" he asked. Emma had seen him drunk before plenty of times, but this was different – he was slurring and staggering and there was a rage in his eyes that terrified her.

When no one replied to his question, he said, "I came in with that nice Kuwaiti family from the 10th floor. They seem charming."

Regina briefly turned her head to make sure Emma was safely behind her before she folded her arms. "And to what do we owe the pleasure?"

"God, you still have that stick up your ass, don't you?" he demanded, his voice suddenly booming. "You've always thought you're better than me."

"Of course I have. The evidence speaks for itself."

Her voice was calm and collected and it was visibly driving Neal crazy. Emma wanted to step forward and help, but she was frozen five paces away. Any time Neal glared at her, she felt herself shrink.

"You're an interfering bitch," Neal said, leaning right into Regina's face. She didn't flinch. "Just where do you get off ruining other people's lives?"

"Ah, I see. You're upset that your boss is probably going to jail, which means there's officially no one left in town who's willing to work with you. That really is unfortunate, isn't it?" Regina asked. "Your career has had an awful lot of ups and downs already."

Neal seethed at her, gritting his teeth like a wild animal. "I'm going to kill you."

"No, you're not," Regina replied coolly. "You're going to stomp and shout, and then you're going to realise that I'm not intimidated by you and I couldn't care less about what you've got to say. It would save us all a lot of time if you'd just go home now."

He staggered forward again, but Regina didn't budge. Even from behind her Emma could tell she was rolling her eyes.

"Go home, Mr Cassidy. When will you realise that we're done with you?"

In spite of everything, Emma couldn't help but fall even more in love with her. She was like a queen, staring him down without so much as a tremor in her voice. It was mesmerising.

Neal didn't think so, though – he snarled at her, trying to decide what to do next. Then he looked up and remembered that Emma was still cowering in the hallway.

He grinned. "Want to come with me, Swan Song?"

She forced herself to reply, even though her voice was shaking. "Get fucked, Neal."

"God, Regina – you should have seen her that night she came round to my place. She was _insatiable_." At once, Emma saw Regina's spine go rigid. "I wonder if you've ever made her as wet as she was that day. It was insane. I'm still surprised she never came back for more."

He looked at Regina to see if his words were having an effect. After a long silence, she said coldly, "Get. Out."

"And those moaning noises she makes," he continued, thrilled to have finally found the thing that would break through Regina's calmness. "I couldn't get her clothes off fast enough. She was begging me to fuck her – _begging_ for it. I'll never stop thinking about that night."

Emma's entire body had gone icy cold. She glanced at Regina again. Over the past two years she'd put Regina through so much unnecessary shit – the debt, the break-up, dealing with Neal in the first place and dealing with him again now. Regina must be exhausted from it all, and Emma felt sick wondering if this would finally be the moment where Regina would sigh and realise it wasn't worth it. She loved Emma, but surely she loved a quiet life more.

Neal laughed at her silence and continued. "It's only a matter of time before she comes back, Regina. You already know that. I mean, she's obsessed with me. Even when I'm working with someone else, she can't leave me alone."

More silence. Regina still didn't move.

"I wonder how long it'll be before she realises that all your money isn't enough for a girl like her, and she creeps across town to find me and see how quickly she can get me to—"

Everything happened so fast that Emma didn't even have time to gasp. Regina, who'd been standing still as marble with her arms folded over her chest, suddenly stepped forward, her pace quick and calm. Her hands found Neal's shoulders. Her knee collided with his groin so abruptly that it sounded like a sack of flour being dropped to the floor.

His face turned purple as he staggered backward, his hands cupped over his crotch and his mouth gaping open. The pain was obviously severe enough that he couldn't make a noise beyond a faint wheezing that almost made Emma pity him. He doubled over, his eyes scrunching up as he visibly tried not to cry, and Regina took another step toward him. She bent forward so she was at the same level as his wobbling, grimacing face.

She gripped his chin in one hand.

"Just in case I didn't make myself perfectly clear last time," she said, her voice low and calm. Neal looked up to meet her gaze, but didn't manage to interrupt. "If you come anywhere near me or my family again, I will destroy you and every single thing you hold dear. I won't warn you again."

With her hand still on his chin, she pushed him backward. He overbalanced and toppled to the floor, still folded in half and gripping at his testicles like they were about to drop off.

The second he hit the carpet, Regina straightened up and turned toward her apartment. Without looking back, she sauntered through the door and slammed it behind her.

Emma was standing in exactly the same position, with one hand on the kitchen doorframe and the other gripping her own necklace. Regina stormed toward her like a gust of wind, her face angry and exhilarated and concerned all at once, and when she took Emma's chin in her hand, it was a gesture worlds apart from the one that had preceded it moments before.

"Are you okay?"

There was no way in hell Emma could answer that. She just gawped at her with her mouth open until Regina eventually forced a smile.

"Come on," she said, guiding her back into the kitchen. "Sit down."

She went right back to making coffee, just like she'd been doing when Neal had knocked on the door. Emma shakily sat down in her chair, feeling like her skull was made of white noise. Across the kitchen Regina looked perfectly calm, but Emma recognised the agitated grit of her jaw and the fact that she was moving her hands around so quickly because she didn't want the shaking to be obvious.

Emma swallowed and forced herself to speak. "It's not true."

Regina turned to look at her with one eyebrow raised. She didn't respond, so Emma clarified, "What he said. None of that… None of that was true."

"Emma," Regina scoffed, shaking her head. "Give me some credit. I know it's not."

All Emma could do was nod. Regina finished making the coffee and brought the two cups over to the table. Only when she sat down did Emma tentatively ask, "…family?"

Regina slid a cup toward her. "Hmm?"

"That's what you said. You called me your family."

She was expecting another scoff of derision or maybe embarrassment, but Regina just smiled. "Don't sound so surprised."

When Emma didn't respond, she reached out and cupped her cheek with one hand. It was still warm from the coffee pot.

"You need to realise this," she said firmly. "You mean the world to me, and I'll do anything I can to protect you. And maybe you're not technically my family yet, but I fully intend to make you so one day."

Emma's residual shock suddenly faded into something entirely different. She grinned and nuzzled her cheek harder against Regina's palm.

"Was that a marriage proposal?"

"Hardly," Regina scoffed, putting on her most offended tone. "I'm a perfectionist, after all."

"What do you mean?"

"You expect me to propose to you at a kitchen table surrounded by paperwork? Please, Miss Swan. Besides, I can't get down on one knee when mine still hurts from assaulting someone on your behalf."

Emma laughed out loud. She reached up so she could remove Regina's hand from her face and tangle their fingers together on the table instead.

"Fine, fine. Maybe you have a bit more class than that," she admitted. "Just don't propose in a private jet – I'm still not a fan of flying."

"Why on Earth would I propose in an airplane?"

"Because I know you, and you'd somehow manage to make it more about what you'd like than what I would." Emma grinned to show that she was joking, but Regina was already gasping with fake shock.

"I beg your pardon? I would not."

"You absolutely would."

"I would _not_. Besides, if I wanted to propose based on something _I_ like, it would never be 30,000 feet in the air."

Emma smiled softly. "No?"

"No. It would be in bed on a Sunday morning. You'd be half asleep and your hair would have those adorable corkscrews in it, and I'd ask you to marry me and you wouldn't even open your eyes. You'd just smile and say yes."

The words filled Emma up with a warmth that threatened to drown her. She squeezed Regina's hand and admitted, "That sounds pretty perfect, actually."

To her surprise, Regina blushed. She glanced away before squeezing Emma's hand in return.

"Well, then," she said softly. "What day is it today?"

"It's Thursday."

Regina shrugged, her thumb brushing over Emma's ring finger as she spoke. "In that case, I guess we'll have to see what the weekend brings."

Emma's heart throbbed like it was threatening to break free. All she could do was smile.

"I'd like that."

Regina's face was soft and warm as she replied, "Good. Now, get back to work, Miss Swan. Don't think you can slack off just because I'm desperately in love with you."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Emma said, then paused. As she picked up her pencil again, she added, "I'd say yes, you know."

Nothing made her love Regina more than seeing her cheeks flush pink with pleasure. She looked away, pretending that her heart wasn't brimming over, and went back to planning their party together. It was yet another chapter in their shared lives, and even though Emma was surrounded by paper and dreading having to force small talk with twenty-somethings whose favourite bands had names she couldn't even pronounce, she knew it would be okay. Just like everything was when Regina was by her side, it was going to be a strange, stressful, slightly messy kind of perfect.

**THE END**

* * *

_Another story ended! I hope you enjoyed the return to these gorgeous, useless ladies as much as I did xxx_

_Find me on Twitter at **_starsthatburn**_


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